The Dark Angel
by Thaura
Summary: AU. Sent to Earth for a mission to collect the most notorious souls, who had somehow evaded Hell, and to save his realm from ruin, Pinhead soon finds himself in a world where he is mistaken for a defender of justice, and soon comes to be known as The Dark Angel...But is there more to the mission than meets the eye? Is he actually destined to defend the innocent from the sinned?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: We do not own any characters or items belonging to the Hellraiser Franchise, those are owned by their creators and Clive Barker. However, we do own our own OCs and the story's plot._

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**The Dark Angel**

Prologue

Imagination goes only as far as your mind will want it to; soon it will get to a point where what you want to imagine will become too unbearable for the human mind to even conceive. Existence is filled with the minds of many, each of them with their own interpretation of Hell; their own way of suffering and torment. But there is a place where they all co-exist for the sinned to be punished.

The sinned who had sought pleasures of the highest twisted feeling. Pleasures that rationality couldn't create or satisfy the needs of those who sought it. However what they would find in this place was not pleasure to them, but eternal suffering so intense they would beg for death time and time again…yet shall never taste its sweet release.

The chilling sounds of screams filled this place; the air was moist with the cold drops of blood and sweat from its many 'arrivals'. The sinned, the ones that had sought pleasures they knew they could only receive by opening the box. The call of the box, beckoning them towards it, tempting them with its otherworldly offerings. Much like the apple to Adam and Eve, it was irresistible.

This place was that apple's Garden of Eden…the Labyrinth. And this place had its own snake…the Cenobites. Angels or Demons, whatever you may call them. They respond a to the box's call, ready to carry out their traditions that have gone on for as long as the box has existed. And over the years, there has been one Cenobite who has followed these traditions without fail, serving only to blend the line between pain and pleasure ever so closer. The Lead Cenobite, Xipe Totec, more commonly known in human legends as Pinhead.

As the most favoured son of the God of the Labyrinth, Leviathan, Xipe was feared and respected by all. His very presence sent a shudder down the spine of all manners of darkness and light. It is because of his bond to Leviathan that made him so feared; he has neither allies nor enemies. He only seeks to serve, and does so without question or hesitation. Even his comrades do not know the limit to this figure's power. Some believed it rivaled Leviathan's, while others believed it dwarfed the Mighty Lord's himself.

But the latter may not be hard to believe as of recently, for the Labyrinth seemed to be in decay, and it's God knew it. Leviathan, who took the shape of a diamond in the sky, watched as his land grew weaker, and his control diminished, with each passing moment. He was one with the Labyrinth and the box, he knew how this problem started, and he intended to fix this as quickly as possible. And he would send his most trusted child to carry out this mission.

Before the God, Pinhead approached; elegant yet powerful in his steps. Truly, Leviathan thought, if there were one who could save the Labyrinth in its time of despair, it was him.

_"Ah, Xipe Totec. My favourite and most cherished son. As prompt as always. Come forward!" _The God's voice echoed throughout the heart of the Labyrinth.

Pinhead slowly knelt down, crossing his arms across his chest in a typical gesture of servitude. ''I come to serve you faithfully, my Lord!''

_"Excellent, my son, for I have a most urgent mission for you to carry out."_

Pinhead's curiosity was immediately piqued; it had been eons since Leviathan had personally called him for a mission. "Whatever you wish of me, it shall be done. So, the matter of urgency I must attend to; what does it entail?"

The floating behemoth pulled no punches with His son, and came straight out with it.

_"My son, I shall come to the point..." _There was a hint of heaviness in the tone of the Lord's voice as he spoke to the pin-studded Prince. "_The number of the most notorious criminals and sinned are rising within the human realm. Many have ignored the calling of the Lament, and there aren't as many boxes as there should be. These slippery humans must be reaped at once, and you my son are the one to collect."_

Pinhead lifted his dark, usually stoic, gaze to stare quizzedly at his master. "My Lord?"

_"As an effect of immediately Xipe Totec..."_ Leviathan continued. _"...you will journey to Earth on assignment for as long as it takes to reap every damned soul that has escaped Hell's clutches. They are causing much disorder, not just within the Labyrinth but on Earth as well.''_

This was unlike any mission Pinhead has become involved with in his time under Leviathan's rule, but he remained determined and eager to fulfill his master's plan. "It shall be done, my Lord!"

If the God could smile, he would show off his cold, merciless lips curved in satisfaction at his favourite's loyalty._"Yes, I knew I could rely on my favoured son. But be warned, Xipe, there are some forces that go way beyond even your strength, and some may attempt to outwit you. You must remain vigilant at all times, and use what every necessary means of soul reaping at your disposal to get the job done."_

Pinhead bowed strongly, and responded with just as much strength. "Of course my Lord. I will not let you down!"

_"Very good…"_ Leviathan responded. _"And one other thing; make certain that the innocent humans do not see you, and do not make yourself known to one. The consequences to you, and possibly the Lament, could be disastrous. Do you understand, my son?"_

"Yes, my most unholy father. I believe so."

_"Excellent. Now prepare yourself for your trip. The next time there will be a summoning from a mere soul you will step into the mortal realm and wait within the shadows. Finding the notorious and the Supernatural will not be easy, but I believe it would benefit from a night time search. Now, be gone my son. And best of luck. The Labyrinth is depending on you."_

Pinhead bowed once more before rising to his feet, and facing his master. "I shall not fail you. Farewell, my Lord."

Those were Xipe's last words to his Lord and father before he turned and left. What was being asked of him had never been done before; Could he accomplish such a mission? He did not know this for certain, but he did know that he would carry out the mission until his last breath. Nothing would stop him harvesting the souls needed to bring the Labyrinth back to full glory. Or so, that is what he believed…

**To Be Continued...**

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_Coming Soon...We meet the very heroes, and villains, of the story. Just what IS the main protagonist's connection to the Labyrinth...and Pinhead? If any? Is Pinhead's mission as straight forward as he believes or does Leviathan have other plans for his son? And there's a new mystery hero-vigilante in town. Just who is he? ;D Tune in next time to find out!_


	2. Chapter One

_A/N: To those who are not so sure about this, and Pinhead's transformation into a superhero, don't worry. Pinhead is perfectly in character, and he's still reaping souls - just with style. LOL. Stick with us, you shall see. So on with the story. The characters of Sarah Connelly, Marc Huntington and Jonah Perry are our OCs. Enjoy!_

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Chapter One

The City that never sleeps always lived up to its name. The streets were packed with all kinds of people, each with their own agenda, and thus never having much time to strike up conversation and are always on the move. The birds flew freely across the skyscrapers of the City, taking in the sights and trying to drive out the echoes of noise going on below…although there was noise coming from a nearby building that could easily overshadow it.

The building in question was the New York Times; the newspaper company that has been filling the people in on everything that has been going on since 1851. And there was a heated argument in the office of CEO Jonah Perry, and his top investigated reporter Sarah Connelly. However, just because she was his best, that didn't mean their conversations went smoothly…in fact, that's where most of the arguments would start.

"I really don't care if there's going to be celebrity appearances. How many of these parties have I covered for you, Jonah?! I'm running out of ideas on how to report the stories!" Sarah Connelly groaned to her boss, pacing back and forth within the City Editor's spacious and luxurious office.

Sarah was in her mid-thirties and already she had worked her way up to the top of the world class newspaper with her award winning investigated journalism. Her jet black hair - loose and almost waist length, frilled and bounced around as she paced the room. In appearance, she appeared delicately petite, small statured in height, smartly dressed, and with the deepest of brown eyes that no man could resist to drown within framed by such a kindly if hauntedly pale face. But no one should allow her petite frame, and sultry and endearing looks to sway them. Once one got on her bad side, there was no turning back. In fact one of the only people that could survive her wrath was her boss.

"As many as it takes..." Jonah replied gruffly. "...that's how many. And don't talk crap about running out of ideas. Every time I send you to one of these celebrity swings, you always bring me the juiciest stories that make the paper sell like hot cakes!"

Jonah Perry was a somewhat grouchy middle aged man, balding with white hair, and forehead forever creased with a deep lined frown. Navy blue eyes hid behind a pair of slim-rimmed glasses which Jonah wore to aid his ailing sight. When he rose from his swival chair at his desk, he stood a magnificent six feet tall - dwarfing his most favoured reporter. He was another one who you shouldn't get on the bad side of, although unlike Sarah he rarely cared when, or where, he acted friendly.

Sarah placed her hands across Jonah's desk and looked him dead in the eyes. "Look, I'm not writing for the gossip column. I'm a real reporter, a serious reporter, and I deserve something else. A story that I haven't done before. I need something new and exciting to cover."

"I cover my wife, and she's never new or exciting. Life is full of disappointments!" Jonah replied sarcastically. "Cover this story, and I may think about sending you and Marc on some wild goose chase you just think will fall right on your lap."

Sarah groaned lightly, knowing this argument was lost to Jonah once more. She turned to leave his office, sighing heavily in defeat. Sarah was his best for a reason, she could make any story good…but that was what held her back. Instead of sending her to cover stories that he knew would sell anyway, Jonah hired Sarah for meetings or public parties to 'enhance' the story and make it seem more interesting. Sarah cursed herself for being good at exaggeration.

Slumping at her desk, and rubbing her temple, she didn't notice her partner in crime approaching behind. "Sounds like your talk with the boss man went well." A young man's slightly feminine voice sighed beside her.

Sarah smiled mockingly. "You heard?"

"I think down town heard, honey."

"Marc, have I ever mentioned how much I love your moral boosts after suffering a defeat at the hands of Satan's editor?" Sarah teased, turning to face the young man.

Marc just laughed and shrugged off her joke. "That's what I'm here for."

Marc Huntington was Sarah's reporting partner, had been for a couple of years now. With his curly brown hair, and a colourful sense of fashion as well as a sarcastic wit mixed with camp persona, he was someone you could never get bored talking to. He was still only young at twenty eight, but he had the wisdom and wit of someone double his age. And despite his sexual orientation, it was rare that the lovable young reporter would fall victim to homophobic slurs from his colleagues. If so, then they'd have Sarah to answer to. Not that Marc couldn't look after himself.

"So who's the celebrity whose party the boss is making you 'enhance' now?" Marc asked pulling up a chair next to Sarah.

"Brad Cruise."

"Really? Wow, all of a sudden I'm no longer disappointed!" Marc joked.

Sarah chuckled lightly glad she could get rid of some of the stress. "Glad one of us is going to have the time of their lives."

Marc patted her on the shoulders offering his support. "Hey come on, we'll get that story you've dreamed about one day. Everyone knows you're too good to leave on the sidelines."

"Everyone thinks I'm too good for the main game. I think they're all scared I'm going to put them out of work." She winked.

Marc grinned, glad that Sarah was back to her sassy self. She would always bounce back quickly. But he knew she still felt frustration and hurt inside; she's desperately wanted a story that would put her name down in the paper's history. But she was always stuck with the stories that were remembered for a day or two just to make sure that day was a sellout.

She'd had the makings of a reporter in her for years, to tell the world stories no one else had before. But it was almost impossible; there was nothing new anymore in this world. Despite the chains that kept her down, she knew one day she would find a story that would help her break free and she would fulfill her dream.

"Sarah? Sarah?" Marc called out a couple of times, even waving his hand in front of her face before she realized.

"Sorry, my mind was somewhere else for a second." She said wistfully.

"Good old Duncan is staring at you again!?"

Sarah frowned almost bitterly. '"You got my attention to tell me that?"

"Only for the reason, that I've only just realized, I can't remember the last time you went on a date." Marc winked.

"Three months ago…" Sarah replied back nonchalantly.

"That was with me, and that _wasn't _a date." Marc cut in.

"Well it counts; we went for a night out, and you are a guy."

"Yeah but you're a woman, so to me that doesn't count." He smirked at her.

"Don't play that trump card on me again. Besides, I don't need a man in my life. I just need a story first then I can worry about relationship burdens."

Marc then sucked air through his teeth. "You know boss doesn't pay extra for loyalty."

"No, but I just…I'm just not interested in finding a guy right now."

There was a hint of a smirk across Marc's lips as he playfully nudged her. "Oh you never know. The man of your dreams might be involved in that next big story you're hoping for."

"Yeah, that'll be the day." Sarah scoffed.

"Connelly! Huntington!" Jonah called out as bounded out from his office towards the two reporters. "We just got a call about some street fight or something down 35th. Jerry and Mitchell are unavailable at the moment, so you two are my last hope. So hurry up and cover this story."

Sarah practically leapt out of her seat, but tried to keep her coolness and professionalism intact. "We're on it boss!'' But the moment she turned and pushed Marc out of the door and she was out of Jonah's eye sight, she pumped her fist in the air with joy. "This is what I've been waiting for!"

Marc seemed perplexed as they entered the elevator. "I don't get it, street fights happen all the time. Why send us to cover it?"

"That's exactly it. This one has to be utter carnage. I'm talking blood and guts everywhere, gun fights, possibly a car crash with the mangled body of the thug inside…"

"And there goes my lunch!" Marc said half-jokingly.

... ... ...

It was about half an hour after jumping into the cab before Sarah and Marc had arrived at the scene. It was taped off with two or three photographers already there, shooting a dozen pictures at once. Officers were placing a hand gun in a bag for evidence, and one was further down the alley on the street taking a sample of a small streak of blood across the wall.

Sarah and Marc walked further down the alley taking in notes of what might have happened. It looked like war had erupted. Wood shards off baseball bats and bent knives were strewn all over the alley, another hand gun was found near a busted up trash can. The wall in the alley looked like it had something rammed in it, and there was more blood on the ground. But that wasn't the part most of the investigators were interested here.

Sarah coolly approached the team of investigators and produced her press pass, showing it to one of the men. "Sarah Connelly, the New York Times. What have we got?"

''Well…I'm not really certain for sure. What's the first thing you think when you see it?'' He asked her.

Sarah looked at the wall, and was quite shocked to see what the hubbub was about. A symbol of some diamond shaped form with intricate designs had been burnt into the wall, leaving a trail of smoke emerging from it, either meaning this was done very recently or it was something else entirely.

"It's like…someone just burnt through the wall and left their gang mark." Sarah said, gazing toward the wall with the smoking entrails.

"Gang mark?" Marc questioned.

"Yeah, all gangs carry one." Sarah explained. "This is probably the ones from downtown by the looks of it, although I don't think I've ever seen a gang mark like this…"

"That's where the problem starts." The investigator interrupted. "We have one eye witness from this attack, and from her accounts…this was all done by one man."

Sarah and Marc shared a look with each other not believing what they just heard. Sarah looked back down the alley, staring at the damage done. Impossible. Even if it was one guy, he would have to have experience in gang fights or street brawls to do this kind of damage. A one man army, this was just the story she could be looking for.

"You mind leading us to the eye witness?" Sarah asked.

The two of them were led to an officer's car, where a female police officer was talking to an incredibly pretty young woman in her twenties. Red dress and handbag to match, with what looked like an expensive necklace that she held onto as if her life depended on her. And Sarah believed this was probably so. There are plenty of thugs that would take the chance to steal a necklace like that.

"Excuse me?" Sarah said gently getting the woman's attention. "My name is Sarah Connelly, this is my partner Marc Huntington." She gestured to Marc who gave the woman a friendly wave. "We work for the New York Times. We'd very much like to know what happened here earlier."

''Well…it all just happened so fast…'' The girl whispered with a weak voice. She was trembling terribly under the blanket a police officer had wrapped around her, and already Sarah could tell this woman had been through a lot. Her voice was hoarse from screaming her lungs out during the incident.

"You told the investigators this was the work of one man?"

"Oh no, he wasn't just a man..." The woman stuttered hurriedly, getting Sarah's full attention before she continued, saying the last thing Sarah would have expected.

"...He was an Angel!"

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

With the very moment those words had left the trembling lips of the terrified young woman, the air surrounding the reporting duo had turned very cold indeed. Goose-pimples had begun to bubble to the surface of Sarah's pale skin as she took a breath and retrieved her reporting equilibrium.

"Pardon me?" She then asked the woman, still not quite sure what the girl had just said.

"He appeared out of nowhere, and saved me...like an Angel." She managed a weak smile at the very thought.

"Okay, did this Angel have a distinctive face you can describe?" Sarah asked, more professionally.

Marc then drew closer to the two women, a slight smirk plastered across his face that he hoped his reporting partner wouldn't notice. "Did he have a muscular figure?"

Sarah smirked at her exuberant partner, indicating she was aware of what lurid thoughts were going through his mind.

"No, that was a professional question." Marc held his hands up, defending himself. "I think we need to know if he really did take the thugs out himself!"

The woman shook her head slowly, eye liner staining her cheeks from crying all morning. "I'm sorry; it was so dark I couldn't work him out. All I know is he was very tall…and…the air seemed to grow cold as soon as he appeared, like time just froze all around us."

Sarah took in the woman's words. She was obviously scared when this happened so getting the story wouldn't be easy. "I need you to tell me everything, right from the beginning if you can."

The girl inhaled a deep breath. "Okay…it was about four in the morning, it was still really dark. And I'd just left a party with my friends. I never liked to drink too much so I left early, and now I really think I should have just stayed and partied…"

... ... ... ...

_**Flashback...**_

_The street was dark and damp from the cold chill of the air, and the shadows that seemed to dance along the pavement with every flash light of a car that passed by. The woman in the red dress, slowly and cautiously walked along the pavement, minding her own self as she walked. Eyes darting from left to right on the lookout, only now she's realized it was a bad idea to leave at this time, she thought it would have been lighter by now. But even the light of the moon didn't help._

_Then she could make out a person standing in front of her; some guy in his late twenties, wearing punk attire and smoking heavily. Not wanting to take the chance of being heckled at or worse, the woman calmly walked to the other side of the street to avoid confrontation. However, just as she was about to continue walking, four more thugs in hoods emerged from the alley, and came within touching distance to the girl._

_She tried to back away, but then crashed right into the first thug she saw, and even with her back turned she knew what was happening…as she could feel the sharp, cold and unmistakable edge of a knife pointed to her back. The first thug leaned close to her ear before whispering; "Do what we say and we promise not to hurt you…too much!"_

_The woman wanted to cry for help, but she could only silently plead to God for some salvation as the hoodies dragged her further down the alley. "Bag, now!" One of them said, and she quickly handed over her red handbag to the hoodies who instantly searched for anything of value. Finding her purse, her phone, as well as some of her cards._

_As this scene went on, each of them felt the air cool around them. Their breath was now visible enough to be mistaken for the smoke the first one was making earlier. But the hoodies continued with their search, checking that they had everything. It soon became so cold, that the woman unintentionally held her necklace around her neck, stopping it from chilling her heart pounding chest. However, the hoodies noticed this and were taken back by her beautiful necklace._

_"Hey man..." One of the hoodies said. "That's golden make with crushed silver bits. We could easily get five grand for that at least."'_

_The first thug's lips curved in a twisted smile as his hand snaked around the woman's neck, brushing over her necklace. "You hear that, sweet cheeks? So we'll be taking that necklace now!"_

_"No please..." The woman begged. "This has been in my family for…"_

_''That's not an option!'' Another hoody sneered before approaching the woman. He slapped her hard across the face, causing her to collapse to the ground, and that's when she started screaming and begging for help._

_"No one is coming for you sweet cheeks!" The first thug said, kneeling down next to her, grabbing her by the face and forcing her to look at him. "Every day someone is attacked in this city. Every day someone is killed in this city. But no one does anything to help, and you know why? Because it makes no difference. So what if you call for help? No one will care, it happens. So shut the hell up…because no one is going to save you!"_

_"AHHHHH!" A scream echoed throughout the alley, interrupting the exchange between the hoody and the captive woman. All the hoodies and the woman turned to the source of the sound, where one of the hoodies was standing just a second ago. The rest immediately brought out their weapons; two with baseball bats, one with a flip knife, and the first with a hand gun._

_''Who's there?'' The leader called out. There was no response._

_At least not until the hoody that screamed in the first place was sent flying from the shadows, almost hitting the others, who all dodged, watching as the flying hoody crashed against the wall and slumped to the ground unconscious. The others quickly turned back round to the shadows, and could straight away see the outline of a man. Tall, well over six foot. However, thanks to the cover of darkness could not be seen by anyone, including the beaten woman whose vision was hazy thanks to the hit she took._

_"You are so dead man!" The lead thug grunted at the man in the shadows._

_The man was silent and still in the shadows, as if waiting for the hoodies to make the first move. Before anything else could happen, the man in the shadows spoke._

_"Your souls reek of sin, and I have come to collect!"_

_The leader just laughed at the man's poor excuse for a threat, but if only he realized this was no mere man he was facing now, if only he could see he was staring down the black-coal eyes of something terrifying and supernatural appearing._

_**BANG!**_

_The leader fired a shoot right at him. But nothing happened to him. He clearly got a clean shoot, yet the dark stranger did not fall nor even sway a little. Thinking he just missed his shoot, the leader raised his gun and fired again._

_**BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

_Three shots later and still nothing. The stranger did not fall under this mortal weaponry._

_For the first time that night, fear gripped the men like a boa constrictor, all not sure what to make of this newcomer. Believing they still had the upper hand as they were armed and this man didn't appear to be, the leader turned to his boys. "Get this son of a bitch already!"_

_One of the hoodies charged forward and swung his baseball bat at him. He easily grabbed it with the palm of his hand and held the hoody in place. The man used all of his strength to try and pull his bat out of his unholy strong grip. The stranger was hardly putting in any effort. Tired of this game, the man swung the bat with the thug still holding onto it against the wall, knocking him out cold instantly._

_The other hoody with a bat charged forward, and aimed for the stranger's head, but he seamlessly ducked under the attack and pulled back his fist._

_**BAM!**_

_It didn't seem like he used much force, but that blow took the wind out of the hoody and threw him right off his feet and crash to the ground dazed._

_The third hoody, the one who had struck the woman earlier, raised his knife at the dark stranger, but he just stepped aside in no time and grabbed the man's arm. Before he could look up to see his opponent's face, he struck out, aiming for the thug's cheek._

_**BAM!**_

_He had struck him hard enough to send him flying across the alley and land right on top of a trash bin._

_Now the first thug was alone, the tide clearly turned against him as the interfering do gooder approached him. The shadows of the alley still keeping him cloaked from sight, and if this hoody saw what the man truly was now, he would surely die of a heart attack, and the stranger wouldn't want that…it would be too easy of an escape._

_The thug raised his gun once more._

_**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!**_

_Out of ammo, and the bullets had no effect once again. As a final resource, he brought out his knife and took aim right for the man's forehead. And time seemed to slow to a crawl for the thug, as he watched his weapon bend and break as it pressed against his cold skin. The thug was now on the brink of tears as he backed up against the wall in fright._

_"Please don't kill me, please, take the money and the girl, just let me go!" He begged shamefully._

_"I have no interest in those things, only you. David Barret." The stranger spoke calmly, his inhumanly dark voice shuddering the thug right through to the bone, especially when he pulled the thug's name from nowhere. "For it is you that I seek. I am the personification of your suffering!''_

_The stranger suddenly placed the palm of his hand against David's chest. The thug screamed his lungs out as it felt like his very skin was burning and peeling from his flesh, and in fact it was. And soon enough, he pulled back his hand to reveal a diamond shaped form on David's chest, burnt into place. "And yours has only just begun!"_

_Getting over the shock long enough to see a chance to escape, Barret took it and sprinted out of the alley._

_The Dark Prince of Pain, Xipe Totec himself - though his prey would not know of his name - took a second to take pride in what he was doing, saving the Labyrinth and pleasing his Lord and Master Leviathan, and already he was imagining the ways he would make these thugs bleed and scream when the time came._

_Just as he was about to turn and leave, he could hear the faint whimpering of the woman who had been attacked. She looked towards him, but with the darkness, the fear, as well as the hazy vision the woman still couldn't make a decent picture on what he looked like. She could only see that he was facing her._

_And that he was her Saviour, and perhaps the rest of the world's too._

_"No tears please, it's a waste. They shall suffer for their sins accordingly. You are safe now, my child." Was all Pinhead said to her before disappearing into the shadows._

_The woman picked herself up on her trembling legs, and looked around at the damage caused, the other thugs that were knocked down had reawakened and had taken off before any more damage could be done to them. But there was still something that remained, telling the woman that what she just saw was very real. On the wall, right where Pinhead had marked the thug was the same mark burnt into the wall, as if it went right through the thug's very body..._

... ... ... ...

...And that mark was still there. Sarah could see it clearly before her very eyes. But half of what she heard in the woman's story just seemed impossible to her. Taking bullet shots? Making fully grown men fly thirty feet in to the air? It just didn't seem real. Super powered people didn't exist. But Sarah knew that someone extremely powerful lingered in the shadows, and that someone had saved this vulnerable young woman. That was enough to convince her this man had to be found.

"I know that look." Marc said, bringing her out of her thoughts. "You want to find this person?"

''We are _going _to find him.''

''Oh great. We're about to search for a guy who single handedly took out half a dozen armed thugs with his bare hands, and found the time to burn his mark into the wall. Just how I wanted to spend my weekend." Marc muttered sarcastically.

"The guy saved that woman's life. We're reporters; we know how many times we've heard this story, how many people have ever lived to tell it. If we've got a vigilante helping out, and I'd like to meet him...'' Sarah said with a small but hearted, determined grin.

... ... ... ...

_Elsewhere...Much Later on_

"Another!" David Barret barked as he was handed another load of…wow, he was so drunk he wasn't even sure what he was drinking anymore. Not that he cared; the bar was almost empty anyway and he had to drink. He wanted to get rid of the memories of what happened earlier. But it was much harder as he had the burning sensation against his chest, the mark that freak or whatever had burnt onto him.

David downed the drink in one go, growling in disgust at the foul taste, but it was helping his mind to go at ease one way or the other.

"Another!" He called once more. He was drinking himself to death alone. He'd tried to call his mates from the attack earlier, but for some reason none of them answered. Could the guy have got to them too? What does he care? As long as he had his head on his shoulders and a glass of alcohol in his hand, he was good.

But at the same time, he wasn't. Ever since being burned with the mark, he's felt hidden desires; desires he'd never felt before. Like he'd tasted the forbidden fruit and wanted more. His mind became a buzz as he wanted more, not more drink but something else. He could hear voices in his head, each calling out to him, one clearer than the others…coming from right behind him.

Sitting in the corner of the bar was some hobo minding his own business. Words didn't escape his lips, but the thug knew somehow this hobo was talking to him. He stumbled his way towards the seat next to the hobo, who turned and grinned at him as if he was expecting him. Out of nowhere, he then pulled out a small golden cube with black markings on it; the sight was enough to tip the thug's curiosity into full-blown desire.

"What's your pleasure sir?" The hobo croaked.

Watching this scene from the other side of the bar, unseen by anyone else in the shadows, was Pinhead. He watched on as the hobo gave the box to David Barret, who took the box without another moment's hesitation before quickly running out of the bar with it. Even with this victory, Pinhead remained emotionless; he knew that only five souls would not be enough to sustain the Labyrinth.

_"You are correct my son!" _Leviathan's voice spoke in Pinhead's mind. _"There is still much more work needed to be done. Complete this mission, save our ways, and let nothing stand in your way."_

"I shall complete this mission my Lord, and if anyone should dare stand in my way…I shall tear their soul apart!"

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Slow day in the office; that's what it felt like for Sarah since the vigilante incident. She was alone, sitting at her work desk trying to think of something to type up but really couldn't find the words in the mood she was in. Her mind was so fixed on the mysterious man that saved the woman a few days ago; so many questions that needed to be answered quickly before she would go mad from the strain of trying to figure them out.

Mind at a blank, she found herself doodling on a piece of paper, not really paying attention at what she was drawing. The smell of hot cocoa filled her nostrils, and she turned to see Marc standing beside her with two cups. Sarah smiled at her friend as she took one. "Always know how to brighten the mood."

"I've always been called the life of the party, then eventually the death of it." He joked. "So what you up too?"

"Nothing at the moment." Sarah shrugged. "Just ever since that save the other day, everything else seems a bit…weak in comparison."

"It's not the first time some guy's tried to take down a few punks…"

"But it's the first time someone's succeeded the way he did.'' Sarah interrupted. "He was outnumbered, out gunned, and yet beat them all without anyone getting a decent look at him. And apparently those punks haven't been seen since the fight. You know how I don't like unsolved issues."

"I know, I know…" Marc agreed until his eye caught the doodle Sarah was making. "You into jewelry now?"

Sarah gave her friend a confused look. "Pardon?"

"It's just that you keep drawing the same diamond over and over again."

"Diamond? What?" Sarah looked down at her doodle and felt a bit of shock at the pit of her stomach. Without even looking at the paper, she'd drawn diamond shapes all over the paper, each one a different size. And not only that, but it was the exact shape of the diamond symbol they found at the scene, burnt into the wall...by_him._

"Wow…I mean I…I didn't even know I was still drawing."

"I was never good at art." Marc mumbled. "The only thing I could draw was stick people, and even they didn't turn out straight. Ha, straight, get it? See what I did there?" He chuckled, however Sarah was still focused on her doodle to notice his rather noble attempt at cheering her up. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sarah stuttered and handed the sheet of paper to Marc. "Just help me get rid of this. You know how Jonah is with slackers."

"Don't remind me." Marc said to her. As he took the paper from her grasp, the long sleeve on Sarah's arm slid down to her elbow, revealing what looked like a faint mark of an old scar going across it. "What happened there?"

Sarah's face paled more so than usual, looking shifty and uncomfortable as she quickly pulled up her sleeve and turned back round to her desk. "It's nothing, happened a long time ago anyway." She rushed her statement, eyes refusing to meet with his.

Marc thought about asking her again, curious to know just what caused that scar. All these years they'd been friends and he'd never noticed it before. Then again, she did have a habit of wearing huge clothes that covered a lot of her body; he just always thought she was trying not to get any unwanted attention from 'hormonal charged apes' as she called them. But maybe there was something else to it.

However, he could see how much that affected her, so he decided to let it slip this one time. He patted her lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, it's a slow day. Why don't we pop out for a bit, I'm sure the boss won't miss us for ten minutes."

At that moment, a familiar booming cry was heard. "Connelly! Huntington!"

Sarah smirked hearing Jonah's booming voice, "You have to admit, the boss has impeccable timing."

The two of them got up and made their way inside Jonah's office; the big boss had today's newspaper flat out on his desk, he was staring out of the office window before turning to the two of them as they shut the door inside. Instantly, his finger darted down to a small page in the paper. "You want to tell me why this story isn't on our front page?"

Sarah stared quizzedly to the editor. "The vigilante story?"

"Yes, the vigilante story!" Jonah shot back. "I wanted a big front page spread, a photo of the burn mark, an artist's impression of the vigilante, and witness statements. Instead, I find it on page seven sharing it with some crappy story of which celebrity just got a third divorce. You hear about them every day, this on the other hand is big news and it's not even on the front cover, which would pull at the public's curiosity string."

"Well umm..." Marc started. "We also had the story about that doctor who was a fraud, and about that ex-marine who got hooked on _God of War _and tried to kill his co-workers. We just thought…"

"Thought what?" Jonah snapped. "...That people would rather read about nut-jobs who spend far too many hours in front of the Xbox, and not about a dark and brooding vigilante who wants to take out the gangs of this city one by one?"

"You mean PS3." Marc nervously put in, correcting Jonah.

"What?"

"_God of War_ is exclusive to PlayStation, you can't get it on Xbox." Marc elaborated matter-of-factly.

"Oh sorry I made a mistake, looks like we're even." Jonah shot back sarcastically. "New York City's crime and death rates are rising, and here we have some wacko who thinks he can take them all down with his own bare hands, and he's not even on our front page. I give it two weeks before he's front page news on every other newspaper in the city, but I want us to be the first. I want you to find out more about this person."

Finally Sarah had a say in the matter. "Boss, we've got no leads. There were no eye witnesses, no finger prints, and we're still not sure what he used to burn his mark into the wall with, or what his motive is."

"You might have nothing, but guess what I just got? A call about some brawl that went down on the corner of 67th last night. Some druggies were beaten to a pulp by some guy in the shadows before miraculously disappearing once the druggies ran off. I want you two to see if there are links, and if they are, this is definitely going to be our front page. Well? What are you waiting for Chinese New Year? Go, go, go!" Jonah ordered them out.

Sarah and Marc quickly dashed out of his office and made their way out of the building. "Well you wanted a story." Marc said.

"And if it is the same guy, then I'm not going against the boss's wishes to find out more."

''It's amazing. He takes down a group of armed thugs and then a bunch of druggies that may also have been possibly armed, and both times escaping with no witnesses. Got to admit, this guy must know what he's doing."

"And I want to know how and why he's doing it." Sarah determined. "What training he's using, what connections he has to the thugs, what he's done with the ones that are still missing, and what that mark has to do with anything. If he's done it twice, he'll keep doing it. This could potentially be the story of the year Marc, and we're going to crack it no matter what."

... ... ... ...

However, this just wasn't meant to be as this scene was just as mysterious as the last. No signs of where the vigilante could have gone despite the clear signs that a fight went on. Small blood trickles were splattered along the ground, and the same mark had been burnt into the wall showing the diamond shape in all its wonder.

Sarah and Marc interviewed people around the area about what happened. Most replied that the night started off the same with the druggies doing the usual business as always. Sarah cringed as the neighbours said that this was how it went down for months now; that the druggies would go untouched as police could do nothing in case of endangering lives by getting into a shootout near public homes with children. So instead, the children would have to lie in wake at night as the smell of the drugs drifted into their rooms every single night.

But the previous night was different, as the sound of gun fire disrupted the silent street, and the cries of agony echoed throughout. At first they though the police had finally come to their senses and tried to help, instead all the few witnesses got where the sight of the druggies taking off and someone who couldn't be seen, in the shadows, burning something onto one of the druggies and the wall before fading into the night.

Taking down all the notes they could, they could easily tell this business was stopped by the very same vigilante. Heading back to the _New York Times _building and into Jonah's office, they handed in their notes, meaning they had one very ecstatic boss.

"This is it! This is what this newspaper needs, some guy who's answering the needs of the people. This is perfect, this is going to be our front page every single day until he makes his next big move."

"Thanks boss." Sarah said, a smile of beaming pride tugging her lips.

"Although..." Jonah continued, his voice low and a finger pinching the skin of his top lip in thought. "It's missing something…something, something, something…of course! A name! Now this is what's going to reel the readers in. Huntington, quick - top of your head; think of a name!" He barked at Marc.

"Right now?"

"No save it for my seventieth! Of course now! A name is the catalyst for our winning story that you and Connelly have covered. Now give me a name that fits our brooding mystery hero, anything!''

Marc thought for a few seconds. Not really doing well under the pressure he suddenly blurted out; "Uhhhh...Shadow Saviour?!''

Sarah tried her hardest to hide her giggles, while Jonah didn't take it as lightly. "Shadow Saviour?! That's the best you could come up with?! Huntington! You attract top notch headlines like you attract dates…lousy!"

"Love you too!" Marc mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

"The Dark Angel." Sarah blurted out of nowhere, getting the boss and Marc's attentions. "The woman who was saved the other night described the guy as an 'Angel'. And he's under the cover of darkness... so…Dark Angel?"

"Isn't that the name of a James Cameron series?" Marc asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Who cares? We can bypass law suits later." Jonah muttered. "Dark Angel. I love it. That's why you're the best Connelly; you know what makes a good story. That's tomorrow's front page news; Mysterious vigilante, Dark Angel, stops secret drug operation."

"Drug operation?" Sarah questioned. "All he did was take down a few drug addicts…"

"Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's get this story written!" Jonah yelled at them, too overcome with excitement to hear Sarah's point. The two reporters left the office and their boss in his field of joy.

"Never mind." Sarah said. "When the boss is happy, why bother bringing him back down to crappy mood?"

"So we're going to be looking for this Dark Angel guy then?" Marc asked.

"Looks that way. Hopefully we'll find him before something serious happens. If the boss keeps making me exaggerate these stories, some nasty people might get the wrong impression and try searching for him themselves."

"I wouldn't worry about it. This guy does seem like he can handle himself. Besides, I think he'll be too honoured by your little name given to him!"

"I don't know where I came up with that name, it just sort of came to me. Must have taken you ages to think of that name. Shadow Saviour, seriously?" Sarah teased.

"Hey! I panicked! At least you had time to think of a name."

... ... ...

_**Elsewhere, later that night…**_

The tattooed man ran as fast as his legs could manage, tearing through the streets, covered in sweat and filled with fear and panic. Darting through any alley he could to get to his destination quicker. Not too long he found himself in front of a garage door, he reached down and pulled it up quickly before heading inside and closing the door behind him.

The room was pitch-black; the man couldn't even see the tip of his own nose. Under the sudden realization of what he has to say, he might want to have taken his chances with…whatever just happened to him instead of meeting his boss.

"What happened?" The voice of his boss echoed through the room, the accent being distinctly Irish.

"Scarface, I don't know what happened. We were about to make our deal when all of a sudden…some guy…some guy just came out of nowhere and tore up the place. We tried fighting him back but…it was just insane... he was like a ghost. I had to run Scarface, I'm sorry but I had to. I don't know what's happened to the others but…"

Before he could continue, the lights were turned on full power, almost blinding him.

"Repeat that!" His boss, Scarface, sneered calmly.

"Repeat what?"

"What you said. Tell me what you did!"

"I-I-I ran." The man gasped. It was still too bright for him to move his hands away from his eyes, but he didn't need to see, nor did he want to.

"Have you ever run from the police?" Scarface asked.

"No…but…"

"Have you ever run from inspectors?" He asked again, his tone laced with threat.

"No…"

"How about from those that work for the city's crime bosses? Have you ever run from them? His voice was now filled with rage but keeping it in check.

"No." The man whimpered.

"So tell me, what was it about this one man that made you piss your pants and run with your tail and honour between your legs."

"The things he did were impossible. He just attacked all of us, it wasn't my fault. I'm sorry! I promise, I won't run again."

Then there was silence, nothing but the pants of the man as he felt like crying his heart out. Then he could feel the cold breath of Scarface next to him, as well as the cold metal pointed towards his head, and he instantly knew what that meant.

"I know, you won't run again…ever!"

"No, no, Scarface, please…"

_**BANG!**_

The limp body of the man slumped to the ground in a heap, the cries and pleas of mercy now gone. Had his eyes adjusted to the light he would have seen the other druggies cowering in fear as the boss stepped forward.

Paul 'Scarface' Moran. He was a man of particularly large in proportion, decked out in punk attire, with blonde hair spiked up laced with dyed colours of red and black. Across his arm was a prominent dragon tattoo. But his most distinguishing feature, and the reason for his nickname, was the scarred left side of his face. Like two sharp razors had cut right through and the skin tried to re-heal.

Handgun still in his hand, he turned to his 'employees' and addressed them while pointing to the dead man. "This is what happens to people who show what cowards they are. No one is ever a coward for those crime bosses that run the city's underbelly, and I ain't any different. Business runs as usual tomorrow night. And if some crackpot have-a-go hero thinks he can mess with us…then I'll just have to have a little..._chat_...with him myself!''

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Sarah placed the hot cup of coffee on her table, wrapped herself up in her nightgown and placed her slippers upon her feet as she tucked herself in gently and relaxed across her couch, ready to take a long needed rest in her hunt for this mysterious Dark Angel as she'd called him. Resting her head back and looking up towards the cracked ceiling of her home, she thought for the first time how long she'd been behind the desk at work and never at home. Marc had always made a point of saying how she was a real workaholic, but she'd never thought of that as a bad thing.

She'd always preferred being out of the house, never liked being trapped in one room for too long. Feeling as if the walls were closing in on her when she has a whole world to explore. Now she wished the world wasn't so big when looking for a vigilante that had yanked her full interest to the fore. As well as the hot cup of coffee on her desk there was a sheet of paper with a pen next to it, and what was drawn on that paper was nothing more than the same diamond shape at the scene of every Dark Angel scene.

She sighed heavily; maybe everyone was right, and this was really starting to turn into an obsession for her. Weeks of getting snippets of clues, but never enough to get a full description.

"What is wrong with me?" She asked herself.

... ... ... ...

_**Two Weeks Previously...**_

Sarah and Marc quickly pulled up to their new scene, underneath a lofty bridge where some punks would usually hang around and cause property damage and theft on unsuspecting passerbys. However, all that was there now was damaged goods and the same diamond shaped mark scorched into one of the pillars of the bridge, though not enough to cause any collateral damage.

"Okay, so did you actually see the vigilante?" Sarah asked the eye witness once more, an old man walking his dog; quite short in stature, thinning white hair and supported by a walking cane.

"I didn't, no." He answered hoarsely. "But he seemed really tall…"

Marc snickered at the notion. "In that case everyone's a suspect." He uttered under his breath so the old man wouldn't hear.

Sarah ignored her partner and friend's joke and continued with the questioning. "How tall would you say?"

The old man mused for a moment before answering. "Oh, definitely over six foot. At first I thought he was one of those punks, he was wearing a lot of black I think."

"Leather?" Marc asked with the hint of a small smirk.

"Marc!" Sarah muttered exasperatingly.

"No that was a professional question, not…not a…ahh forget it." Marc sighed.

Sarah turned back to her elderly interviewee. "Is that all?"

The old man nodded slowly earning a look of defeat off Sarah's face as she walked closer to the scene watching as the investigators tried to piece together what had happened. It wasn't going to do any go, this was the Dark Angel's fifth save since this all started, and they were still no closer to finding the identity of this assailant then when they investigated the first scene. But she wasn't about to quit just yet, she was starting to get the idea. Tall and wearing black to hide in the shadows, all she needed was a bit more info, she could wait.

... ... ...

_**One Week Previously...**_

And she wouldn't have to had to wait any longer for more information; this was the third 'scene' since the incident under the bridge. This happened near a park, although, this wasn't the ideal place for kids to hang around in. There had been reports of a group of teenage yobs who hung around there and have gotten quite a few opportunities with women that have walked by here. But the previous night, instead of an unlucky lady, they were the ones who were unlucky as Dark Angel struck again.

This time, the diamond mark burnt onto the slide, clear for all to see. Once the investigators and police had the place sealed off, Sarah and Marc could get on the scene and interview the lone witness who was there at night.

"So what were you doing out last night?" Sarah asked her latest informant, a young man; in his twenties, very fit with a fine muscular physique, in a sweat shirt and jogging shorts with iPod headphones still in his ears. As Marc had put it, the guy was an obvious fitness freak.

"Well I know what I was doing..." The man said huskily to Sarah, sliding closer to her. "...you must have been bored last night waiting for something like this to happen. How about we both do ourselves a favour tomorrow night and keep busy?'

Marc tried to cover his giggles at the guy's attempt to flirt with his partner. Sarah on the other hand kept a straight face, although her insides turned making her feel like she was going to puke.

"What were you doing last night?" She repeated, more sternly this time.

The guy's flirty grin soon diminished. "Right, well I was out for my midnight jog; you know keep the thighs on a high. I run across the road next to the park, next thing I know I hear screaming. I look in here, and there's three kids running off while some guy walks the other way slowly. But he was gone before I could get a good look at him."

"Did you get any look at him?" Sarah questioned him some more. "Was he tall? Was he wearing black?"

The fitness freak nodded in agreement. "Yeah those. I'd say about…six foot two or three, maybe more, but it was too dark I couldn't quite tell. And he was wearing a lot of black, yeah."

"What kind of clothes was he wearing?" Marc piped in. "Punkish? Gothic?"

The man's face scrunched in attempting to retrieve the memories of the dark, tall stranger. "Well I think I saw…it was like…I'd thought it was a cape at first. But I'm not sure...well...what are those skirt things that Priests wear over their trousers?''

"A cassock?" Sarah prompted with a raise eyebrow.

He clicked his fingers, pointing his finger in Sarah's direction, smiling. "Yeah, that's it. A black cassock. Which I thought was weird. That's all I got though."

Sarah nodded. "That's alright. Thanks. I got enough for now. You can go." She furiously took down the newest notes on the vigilante, grinning excitedly. The puzzle was starting to come together now, she thought. And now this Priest comparison etched a new idea into her mind.

But before she could ponder on it more, the jogger wasn't quite finished with her. "You know, keeping this off the record, you are way too sexy to be single."

Sarah's triumphant face soon melted to a show of disgust, and just as she was about to sass him back with something considerably insulting, Marc leapt in between the two.

"How about me?" He winked, trying to lighten the situation.

"Screw you fag!" The jogger huffed, before turning his iPod back on and jogging off.

Marc's expression didn't change as he shouted out to him sarcastically; "You're going to get big support in 2012 London!"

Meanwhile, Sarah was studying the diamond marking once more as Marc stood next to her. "I know that look Sarah. What's up?'' He asked.

"Just that Priest comparison made me think…"

"What? That the guy has religious motivations?"

"Probably. And this fits, leaving his sign of power. I've given up on the gang theory Marc; I have never seen a mark like this before...but...it does seem...familiar somehow." She shrugged, then turned to her friend and brought something else up. Smiling sympathetically, she soothed: "Sorry about what that guy said just now."

"No worries, I'm used to it." Marc responded, smiling. "Besides, I'm too good looking for him anyway."

Sarah chuckled lightly. "Wish that was the same for me. I might have a stalker now."

"Can a stalker have a stalker?"

"What? Who do I stalk?" She asked and Marc pointed to the diamond symbol for an answer. Sarah rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I'm just curious where this story is leading, I'm not obsessing over it!"

... ... ...

_**Now...**_

"I _am_ obsessing over it! Over _him_!" Sarah muttered finally realizing she was letting this story get the best of her. She rubbed her tired, frail eyes. She looked in the mirror earlier just noticing how much she needed a break when she saw the dark rings underneath. But that was another thing she was used to, working always kept her busy and entertained.

This Dark Angel thing was driving her crazy to no end, but she was getting closer to finding out just who he was, even if it was taking forever. Lucky enough though she had a revelation earlier today, as she and Marc were sent to another Dark Angel crime scene in some alley way. This looked like it was going to be the same old same old, crime scene and eye witness. However, this eye witness came up with a valuable piece of description that really set things apart from previous interviews...

... ... ...

_**Earlier Today...**_

"Excuse me?" Sarah stuttered as she tried to fathom what this eye witness had meant.

"Piercings I think." The woman said, mid-forties with short dark hair and green eyes. She gestured toward a lamppost near the street. "Because of that light, I saw the reflection of piercings around the man's head."

Marc interjected here. "Are we talking nose piercing? Brow piercing? Tongue piercing?"

"No, all around his head."

Sarah and Marc turned and looked at each other with the same amount of confusion etched across their faces as the woman continued.

"I don't know if I saw it properly, like I said I only saw the light reflecting, but I think he had…like…"

"Like what?" Sarah asked quickly, she'd waited too long to be held out on information now.

"Like…_nails_...stuck in his head."

"Nails?"

The woman nodded unsure. "Or pins, I couldn't tell."

With no other information left to give, Sarah and Marc left the woman, hoping to discuss what they had just heard.

"Oh wonderful!" Marc said. "So we're looking for a acupuncturist whose aim is a bit off."

Sarah didn't register Marc's joke at all, being wrapped in her own little mind bubble about this. It had to be the most descriptive feature they've known yet, this could be the final key into unlocking the mystery of the Dark Angel. Too bad it come at a time when she was tired, as she yawned heavily.

Staring down at her notebook, she grinned in triumph. "We've almost got him."

... ... ...

_**Now...**_

Her thoughts were interrupted as her phone started ringing. She grouchily got up and walked over to it, silently praying it was something related to this Dark Angel. If she didn't get all the information soon, she was going to go mad. And because of this, she was quite surprised when she answered the phone and heard the phone of her informant on the other side giving her some really grave news…

... ... ...

_**Later…**_

Marc groaned and shrugged in bed as his sleep was disturbed by the high pitched ring tone of his cell phone, which still lay in his pocket. Sarah had been running him ragged for weeks; it was now a norm that he would fall straight to bed in his work clothes. After a few fumbled attempts to reach into his pocket, he finally found his phone.

"I swear to God, if that's Sarah I'm hanging up." He grumbled grouchily to himself before answering. "Hello?"

_"Marc, it's me!"_ Sarah said frantically on the other side.

"Right, I'm hanging up now!"

_"No wait! This is important!" _She got out quickly, managing to stop Marc from hanging up from the call.

"Relax, I'm joking. Although that's the normal reaction you get when you call someone at…" He took a quick look at his watch. ''Two in the morning?!"

_"I know it's late, but I just got a call from Matthew, our informant!"_

"What about? And if it's about Dark Angel again, I really am hanging up!"

_"Marc, just shut up and listen. Apparently Matthew's heard on the street that Scarface is about to make a move!"_

Marc instantly bolted up on his bed and rubbed his eyes to wake himself up. "Not _that _Scarface!"

_"No, Al Pacino! Of course __**that**__ Scarface!" _Sarah said sarcastically. _"According to the street, he's rounding up all his thugs for tonight looking for the Dark Angel."_

"All of them? Jesus, Scarface is one of the toughest street gangsters around. Why the hell would he be putting out everyone for one man?"

_"I'm not sure, but we intend to find out!"_

At that moment, Marc froze up. "_We? _As in you and me?''

_"Yep!" _Sarah replied simply.

"Sarah, did you hear what you just said?! Scarface! The guy is _insane_! He got his scars in a street brawl with a hothead and his knife, and he kills people just for looking funny at his legendary scars. He's been on the streets for six months, and now he's rounded up all kinds of thugs on his team. And you want _us _to be out tonight?"

_"Hell yeah. Come on, Marc. This may be our chance to see Dark Angel in action. Plus, we could get Scarface off the streets if we get the chance to catch him. Get dressed Marc, we're on the night shift now!'_

"No need. Thanks to you I'm already dressed." Marc groaned. "And I get the feeling this is what I'm going to be wearing for my funeral!''

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Darkness swept over the night like a onyx velvet blanket, and the animals could even sense it themselves. The rats scurried into the darkest corners to hide, the dogs howled to one another as if sending warning calls; they knew something was happening tonight, something was coming for blood. Even the moonlight could not bring sanctuary as the fog drifted in, a thick misty blanket covering the city and making it hard for any living thing to see past their own nose…any _living_ thing that is.

Rocketing out of the fog was a single yellow taxi cab, halting before a large apartment building where Marc dashed out still trying to put his jacket on. He jumped in through the door that Sarah had left open for him and gave the order to the driver to peel rubber.

Once Marc had adjusted himself and got comfortable in his seat, he turned to his partner in crime. "We can afford this fare on a reporter's salary right?"

"If we get this story tonight, I can afford you that trip to Dubai you've always talked about." Sarah replied but all her attention was out the window, watching for any action going on between the Dark Angel and Scarface's crew.

"I'm not so sure about this Sarah." Marc said. "What if we get caught in the crossfire? We're supposed to report the news, not make it."

"Don't worry Marc. We'll be okay. I just hope the Dark Angel will be too."

That was when Marc gave Sarah a slightly confused look. "Why are you concerned over a guy we've never met?"

"Scarface is no push over like the other gangsters Dark Angel took on. Hopefully he'll stick to his ninja in the shadow tactics and stay out of the way long enough for the authorities to arrive when we call them." Sarah held up her phone to show to Marc, revealing that she had a plan. However, the expression Sarah wasn't expecting her friend to do was one with a sly grin on it. "What?"

"You like this guy, don't you?" Marc teased playfully.

What!?" Sarah gasped, feigning shock. "Who? Dark Angel? No! Like you said, I've never personally met him. I just thought up the name…" She tried her best to appear earnest in her explanation, but her brown eyes gave her away; darting about her eye-sockets.

"Didn't know you like a man with a bit of leather." Marc continued on like he hadn't heard her, nudging her playfully and winking slyly, his tone thick with innuendo.

"I don't, Goddammit! I don't know this guy. He's just the story, okay? Nothing more, nothing less. But he's still human, I'm just concerned if he's going to be alright, that's all."

"Every beautiful girl reporter needs a hero to swoon over." Marc winked.

"They do not...just shut up will ya! Don't be ridiculous!" Sarah shot back, her skin tone a bright tomato red.

"Fine, fine!" Marc backed down and the two of them fell into silence. Sarah seemed to be more silent than Marc. She didn't want to admit it, but Marc had been correct in his observation. She had felt something for this mysterious Dark Angel, an obsession for certain. A kind of attachment. But a romantic attachment? Did she have feelings for someone she hadn't even laid eyes upon or met in the flesh? It seemed a ridiculous notion, but why did her pulse and heart rate always quicken whenever the Dark Angel was mentioned, or there'd be a big 'save' from him? It had frightened her just how personal this was becoming for both the reporter and what was meant to be her story and nothing more.

After things had settled between the two reporters, Marc had noticed that the driver was looking through the mirror, eyebrows shifted up as if asking what was going on.

"Just keep driving, you don't want to know."

The driver nodded and kept his eyes on what was left of the road in front. After a few more seconds of silence, Marc leaned in closer to Sarah. "From the eye witness accounts; he's tall, dark, brooding...I wouldn't be surprised if he was handsome too...''

"I'm so tempted to throw you out of the car right now." Sarah hissed under her breath, not looking at Marc.

... ... ...

_**Central Park...**_

One of the many landmarks of New York City, Central Park was a place where its sheer size could mean anything can go down there late at night and not be known about for hours. This, to Scarface, seemed like the perfect place for this so called Dark Angel to make an appearance. His boys' cars pulled up and they all formed a circle around the area, waiting for any sign of him to arrive.

There was the scent of fear, it stank the air around them. Although Scarface would relish this scent, he could tell it was from his own men, as he watched each of them shake with terror while holding their weapons, varied of machetes, guns and knives. Scarface carried a simple handgun as he stood in the middle of the pack; he had so many men, he wouldn't need a strong weapon for himself as his men would have already taken care of this Dark Angel before he could even get close.

''I think we need to get the bastard's attention, don't you boys?'' Scarface called out.

His pack watched as he pulled out a flare gun from his jacket and take one shot into the sky, lighting up the area and pushing some of the fog back. Mixture of the mist and sparkles of the flare, the place had a blood red aura around…this may assist in eliciting the vigilante's attention, but it didn't help the pack's mood.

"You know what I heard?" One of them asked another. "I heard that this guy can apparently walk through walls."

"That's nothing." Another spoke. "I heard he has the strength of a bear, no - TEN bears. Apparently he tossed a guy over fifty feet into the air with one arm."

"He can see into your thoughts." One more pitched in. "He knows what your worst fears are. He knows what you're thinking…"

"You know what I'm thinking?" Scarface whispered to the guy as he pointed his handgun into the man's back. "I'm thinking that you should stop listening to whispers of the streets, and start listening to me. You're lucky I need all my men tonight, or you would have missed the show." He moved his gun away and turned.

The man breathed a sigh of relief; he'd dodged the bullet tonight literally.

_**BAM!**_

But he didn't fully escape Scarface's rage, as the leader whacked him across the side of the face with the gun. The man yelped in pain and held his throbbing face, hissing into the moist grass.

Scarface turned to face the shocked faces of all of his men, anger pinching his features. "Forget everything you've heard. This man is no different than any other, they're just rumours. I, on the other hand, am very real. My threats are real. And if anyone else decides to chicken out now…we're going to have a little talk when this is over. So, are there anymore rumours anyone would like to share?"

Everyone shook their head, none brave enough to utter another word. With that settled Scarface grabbed the guy on the ground and pulled him back onto his feet. "I want you and another to scout around, try to get this place livened up. We don't want this punk to miss the fun now, do we?"

The man nodded frantically and quickly walked off, another following him. Scarface and the others watched as the two disappeared into the fog. Breaking the gang apart would ultimately be Scarface's biggest and possibly last mistake.

"This is insane!" The first guy said as he rubbed his red, swollen cheek. Clutching his AK-47 like his life depended on it, and if this Dark Angel was like the rumours described, rightly so.

"No kidding." The other said, holding out his machete. "You know I have this…well I had this cousin. He was a hunter, and he went into this Louisiana swamp looking for some local legend about a ghost hatchet face thing, never heard from him again after that."

"Thanks! That's just what I needed to hear, you fu…"

Before either could utter another word, the fog gave off a weird vibe. The air around them grew cold, much colder than it should have. Their breath was now visible in the air, and if they could look close enough, they could see faint rain drops fall graciously upon the ground.

But what really made them jump was the echoed sound of bells chiming. It was strong and the sound seemed to originate from every angle. The two stood back to back, waiting for something to come out and attack them. A blue light swam and danced around the fog, and just when the two were about to make a run for it, the one with the AK-47 spotted a figure hidden in the fog.

"I've got him!" He shouted before unleashing all of his rounds at the figure, the bullets disappeared into the fog and the shadow of the figure remained motionless even after the man's weapon was empty.

"What is wrong with you!" His companion shouted. "Are you trying to get everyone in the city to come here?"

"Screw this! I'm out of here!'' The first thug shouted. He dropped his now useless weapon and tried to make a run for it, vanishing into the mist and leaving the other to clutch his machete and turn to face the figure alone…only to find it gone. Did he really shoot him down?

"AHHH!"

The sound of the AK-47 thug's screams sent chills down the other's spin. The mist made it impossible to see what was going on; he could only hear the screams. It was enough to make him piss himself in fear. And once the machete slipped out of his grasp from sheer fright, something did emerge from the mist, and the last thing the man could see were chains wrapping around him, dragging him into the mist as well.

Meanwhile, as Scarface and the rest of his gang continued to stand guard, the screams of the two could be heard. Everyone stood in silence and were as still as statues as the screams went on for half a minute before dying down entirely. And for the first time that night, Scarface couldn't keep his usual calm persona; he looked around at his crew as if waiting for an explanation. As he came across one of his men, he noticed that there was another figure standing behind him, much taller and hidden in the shadows.

"What the hell?" Scarface shouted and pointed his gun towards the figure. Before anyone could react, the heavily shadowed Xipe Totec - known to the mortals without his knowledge as 'The Dark Angel' - struck out like lightning and the lowly thug in front of him was sent flying, disappearing into the mist. There was not even a sound of him landing back down to the ground.

Two more opened fire, but all Pinhead had to do was step back into the mist and no one could see if he was even hit. The shadow moved around so fast, none of the gang members could even keep up. One was pulled into the mist, followed by another, and then another…they were losing more and more, it became impossible for anyone to keep count of how many there was left now as when they next blinked another man would be gone.

Pinhead appeared beside another with a machete, who tried to take a slash at the Cenobite, but Pinhead simply took a hold of the sharp bladed weapon with the palm of his hand, holding onto it without any trouble. With a strong tug, Pinhead sent the guy hurtling into the fog, and that was another one down. Another thug came rushing up behind Pinhead, attempting to stab at him with his flip knife but before he could strike, two chains hooked into the thug's hand and dragged him into the mist also.

All that was left was Scarface and another gangster with an AK-47. They both opened fire on Pinhead, but he'd already disappeared into the fog again before either could get a decent shot at him. They both gazed all around, terrified to the point of almost fainting on their feet. Scarface had just seen his whole gang taken apart by someone he hasn't even gotten a proper look at yet. What if this guy really was what the rumours had described? Was he even _human_?

"Boss!" His companion screamed. Scarface turned, seeing how his last remaining thug was yelling in agony at something, and as he turned to Scarface, it became apparent what had made him cry out. There were three hooks embedded on the right side of his face and dragging him into the fog, leaving Scarface alone…but not for long.

"You carry the physical scars of sin, Paul Moran!"

Scarface turned and could see the dark figure in the fog, and it was speaking directly to him. His already cold blood had turned arctic in his veins at how the lone figure had just murmured his name. How could he even possibly know his name? He still couldn't get a decent glimpse of what he really looked like. But at this point in time, that wasn't his main concern.

Once more, the so called Dark Angel spoke up, his voice a chillingly and inhumanly deep and sinister. "You believe that in order to strike fear in those you seek to overpower, the fear of your presence must be one with intimidation of your appearance and of your status."

"Who the hell are you?" Scarface shouted back at him.

"Hell?" The figure guffawed. "Such a limited mind. And that is what you are, limited. For years now you've let jealousy corrupt you. Jealousy of those who had the power and status that you could only achieve in your darkest desires. Your aroma fills me of disgust; you want people to kiss the ground you walk upon. When in reality they won't even spit in your direction."

"SHUT UP!"

_**BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

Scarface unloaded all of his rounds at the Dark Angel, who simply held up his hand to catch the bullets, and forced Scarface to watch as said bullets were crushed in the palm of the figure's hand.

... ... ... ...

And just as those sounds echoed throughout the park was when Sarah and Marc's cab drove past. They could only just make it out, but they knew the sound of gun shots without a doubt. Instantly, Sarah jumped out and made a run for the entrance, with Marc following behind having to quickly pay the cab driver and letting him keep the change. The two raced into the park, weary of where they were going, and unsure of what they would find.

... ... ... ...

Meanwhile, Scarface opened his gun and counted for bullets, he was down to his last one. He took one final look at the figure, it was moving out of the fog towards him. The fear got the better of him for that split second as he held the gun in his own mouth. But before he could pull the trigger, more chains erupted from the fog and yanked Scarface's hand, forcing him to drop the gun.

"You think you can escape your fate that easily? That by ending your life, you will end the suffering that you yourself have drawn upon you? I'm afraid not. For there are things in this world more than you can comprehend, death is of no concern anymore, all there is now is suffering." The figure said, melting from the shadows finally and revealing his appearance to the shocked gangster. He was face to face with Scarface now, and he thought his face had a distinguishing feature, but the sight of this pale, pinheaded inhuman 'creature' made Scarface scream more.

As he stared into those black charcoal eyes, he whimpered. "I'm not afraid of you!" Scarface yelled into the creature's face. "I'm not afraid of a ghost!"

The pinheaded thing formed a sly grin, draping his entire hand across the scar on the gangster's face. A burning sensation forced Scarface to scream, as the infamous diamond shape was burned right across his scar.

"It is not me you should fear…it is your legacy!"

His cries of pain grew louder and louder, mentally begging to just be put out of his misery right now.

... ... ... ...

As this scene unfolded, Sarah and Marc had come across a bridge going over a small stream across the park. And all it took was for Sarah's eyes to divert to her left side for a second, and that's when she saw it in the distance, two figures struggling with each other. Even though she couldn't know for sure, she knew that deep down this was the Dark Angel tussling with Scarface.

"Marc! Over there!" She pointed over to the scene with the two struggling men.

"Jesus Christ!" Marc muttered under his breath as he watched. "The guy's actually beaten Scarface. That _is _Dark Angel right?"

"I can't see him properly, but I'm pretty sure that is him. What's he doing?" She asked.

The two really had no answers as they watched on, not close enough to see the Dark Angel finish his work, the burns now covering the twin scars across the face of the now disgraced gangster.

... ... ... ...

With his work complete, Pinhead dropped Scarface to the ground and walked away. It felt as if hot liquid had been poured across his face. Tears were flowing from his eyes. But something changed once he realized what had just happened; he now wasn't filled with fear, but frustration and humiliation.

"What? Is that all you've got? You're not even going to finish me off? See, you're nothing. This isn't over. I'm going to make it to the top and you'll see, they'll all see. I will hunt you down, you son of a bitch. You hear me!?"

... ... ... ...

The two reporters could hear Scarface's cries from where they were, and it shocked them that such a feared gangster had been broken like that. Marc nudged Sarah on the shoulder. "What happened down there?"

"I don't know, but this is our chance to nab Scarface. I'm calling the cops."

She moved her arm to reach her phone, however in doing so she accidently pushed a tiny stone off the bridge and into the stream. The splash was loud enough for Scarface to hear. The shamed gangster looked out and noticed the two reporters on the bridge. Overcome with rage, he reached for the gun once more and aimed his last shot at them.

Sarah and Marc ducked, but this was what they feared; the bridge was full of holes and see ways, there wasn't anywhere for them to really hide and dodge the bullet.

_**BANG!**_

If any human could see a bullet move at normal pace, they would watch in awe as the bullet was sliced in half in mid-air by a chain that appeared from the mist.

Thinking she may have heard a chain-like sound, Sarah risked her very own life by turning to see what just happened. And her eyes bugged out when she saw the chain that had blocked the shot retract back into the mist. Scarface, unable to do much else, took off and disappeared into the night.

"Oh my God!" Marc gasped once he realized the bullet didn't hit him or Sarah. "That was close; this is the last time I'm ever going out in the night with you. I always end up in some sort of trouble, whether it's me having a few too many drinks or in this case having a deranged gangster pull a gun at us!"

"Did you see that?" Sarah asked, mostly ignoring Marc's little rant and referring to the chain she thought she had seen.

"No I didn't. I was busy taking cover from the gun I was just talking about…what are you looking at?"

"There was a chain that just shot in and out of the fog. I think it stopped the bullet."

"What?" Marc questioned, still overcome from paranoia. "Sarah, that's impossible. A bullet travels faster than light, and chains are way too heavy to be used to block bullets-"

"I know it sounds crazy but I'm just…I'm just sure that Dark Angel used the chain to block it."

Marc considered this for a brief moment before shrugging. "Whatever, I just want to go back home and get back into bed."

"What about Scarface?" Sarah asked.

"It's too late; he's probably already hit the road by now. I'm sorry, but I say we got lucky tonight. How many people can say they stared down the barrel of Scarface's gun and lived to tell the tale? Besides you got what you wanted, we finally got to see Dark Angel for ourselves. Mission accomplished."

"Not yet!" Sarah said as she got up and walked towards the exit of the park, with Marc following. "We don't know why he's doing it and how. No one can take down a whole gang like that single handedly, he didn't even look armed either. And another question, why isn't he actually killing his targets?"

"We don't know that officially. 'Cause every single one of his targets are usually wiped off the map within a day or two."

"So you're saying Scarface is going to disappear off the face of the Earth by tomorrow?"

"If so, I say good riddance. I'm too pretty to be shot at." Marc mumbled.

"Good to see you've still got your sense of humour." Sarah managed a smile.

"If you're partners with Sarah Connelly you need one, otherwise you go loopy." He noticed how Sarah was in deep thought and kept looking back at the scene. "What's up?"

"I just don't think we're dealing with some vigilante."

At that point, Marc grabbed Sarah, turning her around and forcing her to face him. "Please don't tell me you think this Dark Angel is a…"

"A what?"

"You know...a superhero!? That's impossible right?"

"Well, no. Not exactly." She agreed. Thinking he'd won the argument, Marc walked on ahead ready to get some much needed rest. Sarah continued to stare into the mist, almost getting the feeling that Dark Angel could be watching them right there and then, or maybe out there stopping some other crime.

"Impossible." She whispered to herself, not sure if it really was a superhero they were dealing with…

... ... ...

_**Much Later...**_

On his hands and knees, he waited for the puddle to still and for the first time, Scarface saw his new facial accessory; a diamond shape burnt across his face. A symbol similar to the ones marked onto sides of buildings and other landmarks. He slammed his fist into the puddle. How could he show his face in this town again? After suffering a defeat like that? If other gangs heard about it, he'd become the laughing stock of the criminal underworld.

He rose to his feet and walked towards the exit of the alley. He was just going to look this over, wash it away like one of his usual bad hangovers. All he needed was a bit of booze, some girls to keep him entertained for the night, he'd be refreshed and ready to start over again…but it looked like fate had other plans for him.

Before he could leave the alley, a limo pulled up blocking his path. "What the hell is this?" Scarface demanded an explanation. The window of the limo opened; there was a man in it, hidden thanks to the darkness of the night. "What's going on here?"

"Must be embarrassing, right?" The man in the limo stated calmly. "To see yourself in such a pitiful state. I find it sad really."

"You going to humiliate me to death? I've had enough of that for one night. Now get out of my face!" Scarface snapped at the man, just about ready to leave when the door to the limo opened slightly, not enough to reveal the appearance of the man inside.

"I know it was that Dark Angel that did this to you. How would you like revenge?"

Scarface instantly stopped in his tracks; the desire to take down the Dark Angel was overcoming all his rational senses. He turned to the limo and stood next to the open door, still unable to see that man unless he stepped in.

"You can kill him?" Scarface queried.

"Oh I'm sure you'd love to do it yourself. And I can help you do that. See, I have some…ways of helping you face this mysterious saviour. But I want you to know that if you do agree, you must go on till the end. The second you start second guessing, or you fail to capture the Dark Angel...you'll wish he killed you."

Doubt took over temporarily, but mixed emotions filled Scarface. The mark was still burning on his face, filling him with thoughts of revenge. That was what he wanted; his pleasure to see Dark Angel suffer the way he did tenfold. He nodded slowly.

"Alright, I'm in."

"Good. Now get in. We have so much to talk about." The man offered the gangster, and without further hesitation, Scarface stepped in, hungry for revenge against Dark Angel.

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

The only sounds within the room were from the clock on Jonah Perry's desk, ticking away and telling on the already jumpy nerves of Sarah Connelly. The CEO himself sat at his desk, utterly engrossed in reading the story that Sarah and Marc had brought to him about their little adventure and near miss the previous night. Every so often his eyes would dart over to the both of them, who were standing just in front of his desk and anxiously awaiting his response.

His face was completely emotionless as he continued to read; although Sarah and Marc had arrived at the scene just as the action ended they had a pretty good idea what went down and what had become of Scarface and his crew, who apparently haven't been seen by anyone since that night.

Finally, Jonah set down the papers across his desk, eyeing the both of them, still no emotion as he spoke.

"Connelly, Huntington. You want to know what I think?"

Both shook their heads nervously as Jonah stood up and a smile broke out on his face. "I love it!"

The two reporters instantly breathed a sigh of relief as the boss continued. "You both have probably just given us the winning story we need, and the best part is we're probably the only paper with this kind of exclusive account; actually seeing this Dark Angel in action." Then his tone flattened. "However..."

"However what?" Sarah pressed.

"A cassock?" He questioned them with his brow raised. "Isn't that one of those skirt things that Priests wear? Since when do superheroes wear cassocks?"

Sarah and Marc looked at each other in bewilderment at their boss' choice of words. Sarah stepped forward slightly. "But Boss, how do you know we're actually dealing with a superh-"

"Trust me, Connelly. We're dealing with a real life superhero!" Jonah interrupted. "Change the description from a cassock to a...umm...what could it be?...a cape...!"

"A cape?" Both reporters gasped, astounded by what their boss had just proposed. A cape!? This was no exuberant and colourful comic book superhero they'd eagerly read about as kids every Saturday. This was...well, Sarah wasn't sure what he was, only that he was certainly no Superman or Batman! And once more, Sarah was the one to point out to her over excited editor and chief.

"Boss we can't just change his description!"

"Why not? No one has actually seen the guy so who's going to tell the difference? A cape will really draw the reader's attention, especially our young male demography who talk about nothing else other than girls to date and superheroes. And not to be unfair to the ladies, the guy is most probably wearing tights too!"

Now Sarah went bug eyed at what her boss was suggesting; nothing in any of their eye witness accounts said anything about tights. This was obviously just a ploy, a cheap promotion scheme to get girls to read this story…although it might not just be girls who would want to read about that...

"He might have been wearing tights." Marc murmured, unable to hide his grin, and nudging the blushing Sarah who was not amused.

"Knock it off Marc!"

"What?" Marc whined, defending himself. "He might have been wearing tights! It was dark, we couldn't tell…"

There was nothing Sarah could do in her power to stop Jonah from publishing the over exaggeration in their Dark Angel story - the cape, the tights. Once it was printed, that was it. Soon enough the story was published and hit news stands and stores everywhere; needless to say, the story got the reader's attention as the_ New York Times _quickly became the top selling newspaper in the states, as if it wasn't already. And once that story began to spread like an unstoppable plague, it was everywhere. Other newspapers, talk shows, Twitter, Facebook, all talking about this mysterious Dark Angel and how he was apparently the world's first real superhero.

It became the front page on every newspaper, but as Sarah was the first to get the story, everyone wanted the_New York Times_; they wanted to hear the story first from people who claimed to have actually seen the Dark Angel. They had linked him to the _Times_ like _DC_ Hero Superman was linked to the fictional _Daily Planet _paper. He was now the most talked about anonymous celebrity across the entire globe. Everyone had heard about him. Eventually even...the man himself...

... ... ... ...

As the shadows cloaked him from sight, Pinhead wandered the streets searching for anymore sinned souls that had escaped Hell's clutches, or those that could satisfy his tastes and to teach the means of pain and pleasure to. But he had stopped dead at the corner as something else had caught his eye. He had walked by an empty news-stand, his black void eyes curious at the sight on the front page, a headline in large bold font screamed...

**'WHO IS THE DARK ANGEL?'**

And below that headline was an artist's impression of the figure; something about it struck Pinhead and gave him an inhuman chill. The figure wore black leather, tights, with a cape swaying to the side, and around his head were small little piercings of nails. It bared little resemblance to him, it was inaccurately over exaggerated, but still - it was unsettling. He hadn't realized just how much attention he had garnered from his missions. It was the newspaper feature that had really made Pinhead anxious, he looked below in the small by-line describing this so called 'Dark Angel'. It reported about how this Dark Angel was a vigilante/Superhero protecting the innocent and taking a stand against the gangsters and thugs of New York, and how he had just taken down Scarface.

It was _him_! This _Dark Angel _figure the mortals were talking about was _him_! Pinhead's fists clenched with anger. How could he let this happen? His mission was meant to be discreet, and his (well an artist's idea) likeness was in the papers for everyone to see, spreading false hope for the humans. Leviathan would not be pleased with him.

But Pinhead quickly regained his composure; this was just a simple mix up. The humans would forget this story soon enough. All he had to do was make sure his next markings would be done stealthier; he couldn't afford any more exposure. As he turned to walk away he then noticed another detail at the bottom of the page, the name of the person that published the story; a woman going by the name of Sarah Connelly.

He would have to keep a look out for this _Sarah, _make certain she didn't catch sight of him again and release any more ludicrous stories about his 'work'...

... ... ... ...

_**At New York Times Building…**_

"Congrats Sarah!"

"Well done!"

"Good one Sarah. How about dinner tonight?"

"Please, please..." Sarah tried to restore order to the room as everyone from all the offices and desks had come over to congratulate her on a highly successful story, some of course were more enthusiastic than others. "I want to thank you all, and ask if I could have a few minutes alone to get my head straight please."

A few more handshakes, pats on the back and words of praise later, and the rest of the team went back to whatever they were doing beforehand. Finally having enough elbow room, Sarah sat at her desk and silently fiddled with her pen, trying to get the facts straight. She and Marc had just produced the hottest story in years that didn't involve celebrity bust ups or terrorist attacks; it single handedly put _New York Times _among the top selling newspapers in the world. She was getting messages and tweets from everyone about what a great story she'd produced. She had even been tipped to get a Pulitzer for this.

So why did she still feel lousy?

At that moment Marc had finally cleared the crowd, walking into Sarah's office to congratulate his friend. "Jeez, anyone who didn't know what was going on would think Jennifer Aniston walked into the room. You're the toast of the town!" His song of praise stopped when he noticed Sarah wasn't in the fun loving mood. "You alright?"

"Yeah I'm fine." She replied with little enthusiasm. "So why aren't I showing it?"

"You're probably just tired; we've had a long, long, long, long story to give to the world. But just look at all the fun times we had; chasing mysterious Superheroes, baffling descriptions, working long hours of the night, and almost getting shot at. Those are going to be great stories to tell the kids." He said sarcastically.

"But it just doesn't feel like…enough."

"Then what is enough?"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders, unable to answer that question. Until she turned to the paper next to her, seeing the artist's impression of the Dark Angel. That's when she knew what she was looking for. "This! _HIM_!'' She pointed to the picture. "This _isn't _the Dark Angel we've been looking for, it's just a marketing ploy for the boss to use."

"A marketing ploy that's possibly going to get you almost every reporter award of the year." Marc interjected. "What more do you want?"

"It's not the awards, it's the mystery. There's still so much more about this guy we don't even know about." She summed up, and that was when the idea came to her. "We need to get an interview with him."

"Wow, and I thought I was tired." Marc mumbled.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I." Marc shot back. "It's practically impossible to find this guy. We got lucky just to catch a glimpse of him, and even then we were almost shot at. The guy obviously doesn't have a soft spot for the press, and doesn't want to be found."

"Well he should have thought of that before giving crime a spank in the ass." She replied. "Marc, you and I are not going to rest until we have our interview, and we know the full story behind the Dark Angel!"

"I think I had something in my ear, and it just sounded like you said 'you and I'?"

Sarah just nodded her head, giving Marc the answer he dreaded.

"Well, should have seen that coming. But where do we even start to find this guy?"

"He just attacked Scarface and his crew. I highly doubt that other gangsters and crime bosses haven't taken notice. When the next big thing goes down, we'll be there." Sarah told him, new life and energy returning to her eyes. This was the first story that had really sparked her interest and it tied itself around her like a noose. She was determined to find the Dark Angel and get the story she'd been praying for since she had been little...Too bad others didn't share in her feelings.

"Okay." Marc sighed. "Say we do find the Dark Angel; what if he doesn't feel like talking and instead just wants to use our skin for coats?"

"Oh come on Marc. He can't be that bad."

"Of course not. A guy that can take down gangsters and thugs bare handed must be a lovely chap that enjoys romantic movies and Jammy Dodgers."

"Jammy what?"

"Jammy Dodgers, they're British biscuits."

"Oh. Well, there's plenty of time for snacks later." She said firmly while grabbing her coat and notebook. "We have a vigilante to catch."

"Or in the words of the boss, a 'superhero'. You think he's got like a Bat-Cave or Bat-Mobile? Or even..." He snickered like a naughty little schoolboy when he remembered the symbol the supposed 'hero' had chosen to burn onto walls. "...a DIAMOND mobile!?"

The dark haired female reporter narrowed her eyes at him briefly. "We'll just have to find out, then, won't we!" Sarah said, a large grin plastered on her face.

This story wasn't over yet, as far as Sarah was concerned. Not by a long shot.

**To Be Continued...**


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

"You know Sarah, it's getting to the point where you're actually starting to scare me." Marc Huntington muttered to his nosy partner.

"This is scary stuff, I won't deny that Marc." Sarah replied.

The two reporters sat on a bench just outside a park, enjoying the bright rays of sun that shone this bright day under a clear blue sky. "But we must dig our way through the dark tunnel to reach the light."

Marc cocked one eyebrow upward at that comment. "Did you pull that from some philosophy book?"

Sarah shook her head. "No, old college roommate of mine. It's been three days since Dark Angel's last big save, and a whole two weeks since he took down Scarface and his crew. He's going to be making a new save soon, I've got Goosebumps."

"Yeah. And I'll be getting my bullet proof vest ready!" Marc muttered sarcastically.

"Relax will you? I'm pretty sure everyone in New York has stared down the barrel of a gun once in their life."

"How many of them lived to tell the tale?" He asked rhetorically. "And with the way we're following the Dark Angel around like some crazy Johnny Depp stalkers, I doubt that will be the last time someone will be pointing a gun at us. You've got the story, can't you just let someone else get the interview?" Once he asked that question, Sarah gave him a glare that told him what she thought of that. "I'm taking that as a no."

"I just feel…this story means something to me. Like it's awoken an inner fire inside..."

"Let me guess…you got that one from a cheesy Steven Seagal film?"

"No I just made that up myself." Sarah said.

She couldn't really explain it, but she felt some sort of special connection to this story, to the Dark Angel. She had to see it through all the way, even if it meant meeting the Dark Angel for herself. Before anything else could be said between the two, Sarah heard her phone ringing deep in her pocket. She quickly retrieved it and answered.

"Hello?...Yeah...?...Hey, what's up?...Really?...That's great, thanks...Where are you?...Okay, great. This means a lot, Matt. Thanks!" She hung up finally, and looked as if she had just won the lottery.

"Who was that? Admirer that's finally given up on you?" Marc questioned.

"Better! One of my contacts found out about something going down tonight. Something so juicy that Dark Angel is bound to show up."

"Like what?"

"You remember the construction site for that new shopping mall down 27th and Avenue? Apparently there's an operation going down to steal the metal from the site and ship it off to underground organisations for weapons, tonight! There's no way the Dark Angel would miss that."

"How does this contact know this per say?" Marc asked with the obvious sound of concern in his voice.

"He's one of my longest serving, almost since I got into the reporting business, he knows quite a lot. He even had a few connections with Scarface's crew."

"You're meant to be convincing me to help you."

"You'll help anyway, out of the kindness of your big heart." Sarah said wrapping her arm playfully around Marc's shoulders.

"And to pay the gas bill."

... ... ... ...

_**Later that evening...**_

The tension was building for both reporters, as the taxi drove them to their desired destination. However both were feeling a different kind of tension. Whereas Marc was filled with fear and worry about if things went wrong, and the two of them weren't as lucky as the last time, Sarah couldn't hide her anticipation. Since this Dark Angel tip off she'd been itching to get a look at this mysterious vigilante. It'd given her something she'd never had before; a will to fight for something, and at the moment it was to unmask the Dark Angel.

As the sun set, giving the city a beautiful purple and orange aura off the lights, the taxi pulled up and the two reporters got out and made their way to the site on foot, keeping their eyes peeled for anything suspicious as they approached the construction site. The bottom two stories of the building had already been complete, with outer metal beams of the wall reaching at least another floor or two, and the floorboards reaching back at least half of the mall.

Despite the construction warnings and police lines around the building, Sarah and Marc could easily slip past, which made the situation all the more strange as there were no security guards or police officers on duty. Marc was the only one to take this into consideration, but he would have to forget about it for the moment, as he needed to keep up with Sarah who was marching her way through the front door and into the main hall of the mall.

Empty window stalls, and countless hallways on either side of a large escalator in the middle of the hall leading to the almost complete second floor. There was a draft inside, as the wind blew gently on the sheets hanging off construction boards and the unfinished painted walls. The sun must have fully set, as Sarah brought out her phone to give the two of them some light.

"You sure your contact said it was tonight?" Marc whispered to his partner. His echo made him feel on edge, and that feeling was starting to pass onto Sarah, whose eyes were darting around the place every time she thought she saw something move in the shadows.

"Positive. And there's no sign of a struggle. Either the poachers already made off with some of the metal without a hitch and no Dark Angel to stop them, or nothing's happened yet. Let's check upstairs."

Sarah took the lead, doing her best not to show hesitation as she took little baby steps up the escalator, with Marc not far behind.

The look of the second floor conjured more of an uneasy feeling between the two, with the lights shining off the moonlight through the cracks in the wall. The sounds of the city life outside were dying down as unnatural silence took over. Soon, Sarah and Marc were standing in the middle of the room, from the looks of it this is where the fashion clothes would have been sold with all the body sculptures already up and pictures of models hanging on the wall. It didn't help the two of them though, it was bad enough that they both had the feeling there already was a pair of eyes watching them.

"I really think your contact got it wrong." Marc mumbled to her. "Now can we please leave?"

Even Sarah herself could not argue this time. "Yeah, this place is giving me the creeps. Come on, let's go." The two turned and headed back toward the elevator...and that was until they noticed the figure standing at the top.

"Go? You just got here!" The figure sneered, stepping out of the shadows revealing himself to the duo, and holding a pistol in his grasp, wearing punk attire, a dragon tattoo on his arm and the two razor cuts over the left side of his face. "So you must be Sarah Connelly. You're a beautiful woman." Scarface complimented with a sinister tone, an Irish lilt lacing it.

"What do you want?" Sarah asked, trying to play it calm. Although that became harder as more figures surrounded them, each with AK-47 rifles in their possessions, and they were all aimed for the two of them.

With the situation under his control, Scarface could do what he wanted, and he approached Sarah slowly. "Ah come on, girl. I'm just someone who loved the story you published in the papers; the one about a shamed gangster trying to make it big, until his efforts were screwed by some Goth in a kinky outfit. Once I knew that a Sarah Connelly had written the story from her own eye witness accounts, I was dying for an..._interview_." He clicked his fingers, and immediately two of the gun holders brought out a man, broken and battered...Sarah's contact.

"You set this up!?" Sarah hissed at the gangster.

"Well of course! See I don't know how, but I'm sure that was you two that night that saw the Dark Angel and me. And somehow, even though I had a clear shot at you, the bullet was intercepted. He must really want you safe."

''So we're the bait for the Dark Angel?"

Scarface chuckled. "The woman catches on fast." He then ran a hand through Sarah's long dark hair, and despite being at point blank range at the wrong end of a dozen guns, Sarah slapped his hand away with such sass.

At first, Scarface looked as if he was going to retaliate, but he decided not to. "That was rude!" He walked away from them and slinked over to Sarah's beaten contact; Scarface took his pistol and aimed it right at the contact's temple.

"No!"

_**BANG!**_

It was too late, as the contact's lifeless body slumped to the ground leaving Sarah and Marc stunned and frightened to the point of their breaths becoming hitched and painful. Scarface walked up to them again, using Sarah's shirt to wipe the blood on the barrel of the pistol, almost making her vomit at the thought. "You thought I wouldn't know a spy in my ranks when I see one?"

With what had just happened, Sarah was too scared and broken to say anything back to him. Someone's blood was almost literally on her hands, and she couldn't stop trembling now. Once Scarface noticed this, he felt like toying with her more.

"I've seen that look before, the look of a sad child that has been through hell plenty of times in her life. Every time something disastrous like this happens, you freeze up and fall like you want to be sick, or cry your life out…"

"Hey beef jerky!" Marc snapped taking all the attention off Sarah. "What happened to your old boys? These guys look fresh off the academy."

"Oh they're just a little benefit from a generous person who probably wants the Dark Angel dead almost as much as I do. And with you two here, it'll be only a matter of time before he shows up."

"But we don't know him." Marc tried to reason. "What if he doesn't come?"

"Oh he'll come. I know because I have seen him, and he's a man that I would so love to meet face to face again, just to stare back into those black bottomless eyes and say I did it! I made it too the big leagues! So you two play nice, and keep your gobs shut while we wait for your so called _hero_ to come and rescue you!"

... ... ... ...

_**One Hour Later…**_

As each second passed, the fear gripped the two reporters tighter like a Boa Constrictor wrapping around its prey.

Scarface's patience was starting to wear thin as time went on; he stood watch while his new boys kept Sarah and Marc near the back in case of a surprise attack. However, Scarface knew this place inside and out, there was no fog this time and he had men everywhere, he thought he had the advantage this time. He almost begged God to let the Dark Angel try and ambush them once again.

But there was that fright he couldn't escape, as he held his pistol closely to him, his hand trembling slightly in anticipation and fear. He couldn't rid his thoughts of the image of the Dark Angel's face from their last encounter. He'd never seen anything like it before, and he wouldn't be able to extinguish the nightmares until he had the upper-hand, and he was the one looking down on the Dark Angel as he finished the job. His desire had be magnified, every emotion he felt had be strengthen, all because of the mark on his chest, but he had no knowledge of it.

The men kept watch on Sarah and Marc, their weapons pointed right at them, making it impossible for either to make any sneaky get away. Although, as time went on even they needed to find ways of entertaining themselves and started conversations with one another to fight the boredom and anxiety. Because of this, Marc had a chance to lean closer to Sarah and whisper. "How you hanging in there?"

Sarah was still dazed by what she saw earlier. "He was my contact...since the beginning of my career...and now he's gone just like that."

"You can't blame yourself, okay? We're going to find a way out of this, the Dark Angel will come. Come on, you've believed in this guy since the story started. You're not going to give up on him now, right?"

She just couldn't see it anymore, after seeing a man she'd known for years die right before her eyes. The grief and fear twisted her mind. It would take a miracle to bring her out of this...

"What's taking him so long?" Scarface shouted, his frustration causing him to pace about the place, waving his gun about as he ranted on. "Why is he not coming? He knew about us before, what's stopping him from coming tonight? He's probably afraid of me! I wanted to kill the freak! I wanted my gun to be the last thing he ever sees!"

His eyes darted all over the place, as if he was chasing shadows. And then they fell on Marc and Sarah, a devilish plan forming in his mind. "Maybe he needs a little more threat...kill the guy!"

Before Marc could even react, one of the men grabbed a handful of his curly hair and started dragging him away from Sarah, who held on to her friend for dear life. Another one grabbed her and attempted to pull her the other direction. She elbowed the guy in the face and tried to run to Marc, but another guy rammed the back of his AK-47 into her stomach knocking her to the ground. She could now only cry and crawl along the ground, trying with every breath of her being to help him. But her hopes were dashed as two more grabbed her by the arms and kept her in place and she continuously screamed Marc's name over and over.

Marc struggled, but he was outnumbered and out matched as he was dragged to the middle of the room. Forced onto his knees in front of Scarface, who was checking his pistol making sure he had the next bullet ready. Marc tried to fight his way out, however it was no use. His fight stopped once he felt the cold steel of the barrel touch his forehead. He looked up and stared down Scarface's dark black pupils, a grin plastered on the gangster's face. It was fear that Scarface had always loved, the power he held over others.

"Hey!" Someone called out attracting Scarface's attention from Marc. "I think I see someone coming!"

"Is it him?" Scarface demanded to know.

"I can't tell, it's too dark!"

"Then it's definitely him! Positions everyone!" He ordered to his new crew before leaning closer to Marc. "Looks like it's your lucky day!' He muttered before smashing Marc in the face with his pistol, sending him crashing to the ground. Scarface turned his attention to the men who were restraining Sarah. "Watch them!" He told them before taking his position at the edge of a broken platform nearby, as if he was watching the action throughout the whole site.

The two holding Sarah tossed her over to Marc and stood by, keeping watch in case the Dark Angel found a way to them. Sarah crawled over to Marc, still weak from the blow to the stomach but desperate to check on her friend who appeared an inch away from death. "Marc, are you okay?"

Marc coughed out blood lightly before turning to his friend. "Well I'm still alive so that's got to count for something!"

Sarah stroked feather touches to his cheek as she cradled him. "Marc I'm so sorry I got us in this mess!"

"I did tell you so. If we make it out of this, you'll have to owe me lunch!" He mumbled sarcastically. But it was getting harder from him to speak as his bloodied lips started to swell up.

"Ssh, don't talk." Sarah said as she tried to keep the wound from bleeding anymore. Though she was glad to hear Marc's light-heartedness of the situation, even if it was deadly. She looked up at Scarface's silhouette as he stood near the edge. It took all of Sarah's willpower to stop herself from trying to run and push Scarface off the edge. However she knew she would be eating bullets long before she could even get within five feet of him. No, at the moment their only hope of survival was the Dark Angel, if it was him that showed up.

Scarface looked on at nothing; he just listened for any noise, the commotions of war that he was so familiar with. But there was nothing at first, just an eerie silence that made everyone in the site feels uneasy. Was it the Dark Angel that had arrived? Or was it a false alarm? Somehow Scarface just knew that it was him, and for some reason so did Sarah. She just knew that it had to be the Dark Angel here to finish what he had started with Scarface.

_**BANG! BANG! BANG!**_

And that was when the commotion was finally heard. From all corners were the sounds of gunshots and the cries of those unfortunate enough to have dared face the Dark Angel. Sarah and Marc were terrified by this, their first real war-zone like encounter, it was shocking the sounds they were hearing. The screams of terror, followed by the faint sounds of church bells slowly chiming.

Scarface didn't fear it at the moment; he had faced this before and was ready to do so again, only this time come out on top. His only concern was he wanted his new men to wound the Dark Angel so he would later arrive and kill the hero himself. A cowardly move, but what other gangsters wouldn't know couldn't ruin Scarface's reputation. But his worries started to shift, as the battle seemed to drag on. All he could hear were more and more screams and the guns continuing to fire. Surely the Dark Angel couldn't have lasted this long against so many men?

And then it stopped…the sounds just all came to a complete stop. In fact everything was so quiet that the only audible noises were the deep breaths everyone took in response to the silence. It was a stalemate as everyone remained motionless, afraid that a single move could attract the attention of something they didn't want. Sarah also noticed how the air had grown cold, and her breath became visible because of that cold...and then she felt a strong chill crawl up her spine.

"AHHH!"

The screams of the two men guarding the reporters broke the silence. Scarface turned to catch the sight of the two being lifted into the air by two chains, and slammed into the opposite walls on the side. Both of their bodies slumped to the ground in a heap as debris covered them. The lead gangster watched as the two chains recoiled back into the shadows, and there he noticed the outline of a man standing there, but not just any man...the Dark Angel.

"Found you, you son of a bitch!" He sprinted towards the figure and opened fire with his pistol simultaneously. The figure disappeared back into the shadows, but that didn't stop Scarface from drawing more shots at the target and chasing it into the unseen leaving Sarah and Marc behind, alone.

"Come on Marc." Sarah grunted weakly. "We've got to get help..." She didn't get far, the blow to her stomach had been stronger than was intended and made it near impossible for her to walk without Marc's support as he helped to carry her. This was their chance to catch the Dark Angel in action, as well as maybe help him out against Scarface. But the way this villain was going, he'd shoot anything that got close to him.

Scarface sprinted for what seemed like ten minutes, running further and further inside the unfinished mall, and out of anyone's sight. He was alone against the Dark Angel, it was not what he wanted. He looked around hoping to catch sight of the Dark Angel, all he needed was one clean shot he thought and that would be it. His nightmares would be over, and his stepping-stone to reaching the big times would be realized.

"Such a cliched and pitiful motivation you posses…" A familiar voice taunted from the shadows.

Scarface held out his pistol, ready for whatever move would strike him. But instead the Dark Angel continued with his verbal assault on Scarface's ego.

"Do not think that the desires you seek are blinded to others by that toy you hold. You are a sheep, no...a _lamb_in a wolf's clothing. You have not even developed and yet you still strive for change, the desire for fame and power...the hunger drives you mad. Well you want to prove yourself..." With that said, the shadowed figure finally stepped out of the shadows, face to face with Scarface once again. "Then take your chance!"

His grotesque yet magnificent appearance shocked Scarface for a second time, but the gangster wasn't going to back down this time around. He held out his pistol and fired a couple of shots at Pinhead. The bullets hardly left a dent on the pinheaded creature's leather bound chest, let alone hurt him. On the contrary, they practically bounced off his chest. Before the weapon came up short on bullets, Scarface stopped and watched the Dark Angel, how he didn't fall, and his how his expression never changed.

"You think you can scare me with your tricks?" The gangster shouted. "I'm not falling for it!" Scarface threw his pistol to the side in anger and brought out a pocket knife he had stashed away in his pocket for insurance, and charged at Hellish Prince of Pain with it. He tried to slash at him, however the blade didn't seem to faze the Cenobite. In fact it didn't seem as if Scarface was even striking anything. He waved the knife around like a madman while Pinhead appeared to remain motionless, yet the knife didn't hit anything, as if Pinhead wasn't there. But the reason for it was all speed, because Pinhead was moving the whole time. It was just too fast for Scarface's human eyes to catch on.

_**BAM!**_

All Pinhead needed to do was send chains to Scarface, which then hooked onto his flesh, and the gangster was instantly brought to his knees. The fast whip of chains were rapid and powerful, like the bit of a snake. The feeling around his body stopped for a second, causing the knife to fall out of his hands. Blood trickled out of his mouth because of the force of the blow, he was whizzing weakly as he held onto his side.

"You set your standards too high!" Pinhead spoke as he stood tall over the now fragile mind and body of Scarface. "Desperation was your downfall; you attempted to climb the steps to reach the gates of your destination. But you should always be careful, because one tumble, and you'll be sent crashing down to the bottom."

The gangster could do nothing now, for he had been beaten again. He whimpered and cried as the pain from the hooks in his flesh was growing, until he looked up to face Pinhead. His eyes caught sight of something else, something Pinhead held in his grasp offering to Scarface...a gold, polished box with articulate markings.

Something about it drew Scarface to it. The temptation of its promise that he could sense, there was something in that box he wanted but he wasn't sure what it was. He blindly let it consume him; with nothing more to lose, he took the box from Pinhead and took it for himself. He watched in amazement as the box started to shift and change, electricity crackled from it and crawled along his arms, flooding his body in sensations that forced him to close his eyes in ecstasy...little did he know the sights Pinhead were offering now would be the last things he would ever see alive...

As more chains then exploded out of the box and hooks on the end dug into Scarface's skin, all along his arms shoulders and face, digging into his two scars. He cried in agony and the chains tugged and pulled on his skin, now all he felt was pain. The pain he had been hiding inside all the years, being the doormat for other well-known gangsters and being spat on by them, was now felt on the outside a thousand times over. Soon his screams died down as his skin was about to be stripped from his very bones, while Pinhead watched in great pleasure.

... ... ... ...

Marc helped carry Sarah as far as he could, but his wounds were taxing to his strength. It was hard to concentrate or even stay on his own feet, so the two were forced to rest against the wall. They had briefly heard the cries of Scarface, and just as quickly as it had started it vanished in the night air. As did that chill Sarah felt earlier, all seemed peaceful again. "He's gone."

"What?" Marc asked, his voice barley audible because of his swollen lips.

"The Dark Angel, he's gone. He must have beaten Scarface. There isn't much more we can do. I'm calling for help!" She reached into her pocket to pull out her phone, but not before turning to Marc seeing the blood dripping from the wounds to his face. "I'm so sorry."

"No worries. I'm lucky it wasn't worse." He replied before attempting a smile. "You know, any other guy would ask you for a kiss better."

Sarah couldn't stop herself from giggling. "Well I'm glad you're not any other guy."

... ... ... ...

_**Elsewhere…**_

"Sir?"

A man decked out in smart business attire nervously approached his boss who stood behind a large desk, staring out a sizable window that over looked New York City itself. Judging from the skyline that was seen, the building easily had to rival the Empire State Building. Yet the blinds above covered most of the room in shadow, including the boss himself.

"Is it about Scarface?" The boss asked. "How did he do? Is the Dark Angel dead?"

"That's the thing, we're not sure. He hasn't checked in for hours, and neither have any of our men that were with him."

After a moment's silence, the boss sighed heavily. "So that low time gangster's done a runner then."

Just then another voice spoke out. "Well that's what happens when you hire a low time gangster to take on someone who's making thugs look like children in a playground."

The person in question stepped out of the shadows, standing in between the messenger and the boss, the only ray of light that made it into the room showed off some of his features. Dark black hair, grey smart suit and black trousers. He certainly lived up to the name he'd been referred to, as one half of his face appeared covered by a pure black mask as if hiding something awful beneath, whereas the other half was whole and fresh, apart from the odd scar. A sadistic smile was etched onto his face as he fiddled with a coin in his hand.

The boss turned to face the newcomer, his face still shrouded in shadow. "Two-Sides? I never called for you!"

"And that was your first mistake." Two-Sides replied gruffly.

"You do realize that after taking out your last target you're one of the most wanted men in New York at the moment? I seriously doubt you'd want to risk another job."

"What's life without a little risk? Besides, this Dark Angel everyone's been talking about has intrigued me. Scarface? The guy's a nobody. You need someone with experience to go after this vigilante. And who better than Chris 'Two-Sides' Sabat? New York's deadliest serial killer with twelve kills to his name...all of them either rival gang leaders, rising politicians or people who just get in the way of our operations. And don't even get me started on the number of cops I've taken out."

"There's no denying your CV is impressive." The boss responded and took a brief pause before continuing. "The Dark Angel hasn't caused me much trouble...yet. But I want him stopped before he gets involved in something he shouldn't. So you believe you're up to the task?"

"Of course." Two-Sides replied smugly as he flipped his coin and caught it in mid-air. "But there's the small matter of my bill. I don't know what bread crumbs you offered Scarface, but what I'm looking for is…"

"Two-Sides!" The boss interrupted, getting the killer's full attention. "If you can deliver me the Dark Angel's head...I'll give you double your last task."

Although it didn't seem possible, Two-Sides' smile grew wider. "Very nice." He then held out his coin. "Before I let my baby here decide, how do you want him taken out...quick and easy? Or slow and painful."

"Surprise me!"

"Good answer!" Two-Sides grinned menacingly.

**To Be Continued...**


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Sarah was decidedly fed up with her visit to the local Emergency Room following her and Marc's near fatal run in with a psychotic gangster baying for blood. She hated hospitals, and she especially hated the medical professionals.

The doctor examining her barely appeared older than herself with his dimpled baby face and twinkling blue eyes. He looked fresh out of medical school. The fact he spoke with wisdom and knowledge beyond his years did nothing to pacify Sarah. All she cared for was knowing if Marc was well, and going home to rest.

"You're both lucky to still be alive." the examining doctor informed her as she sat upon the standard issue hospital examination bed. His tone was smooth and professional. "Scarface is a notorious gangster who hasn't shown mercy often."

As he spoke, the doctor shone a light into her eye, watching as her pupils would increase and decrease in size with every movement. After a few seconds of inspection, the doctor switched it off and walked over to his desk. "Well the good news is you don't seem to have any head trauma. And other than a little bruising to your stomach, you'll both be-"

Sarah, who had been sitting silent since she'd arrived to the hospital hours before, finally spoke up. "I told you I'm fine, it's Marc you should be focusing your attention on!"

"Miss Connelly, we still have to take precaution for everyone involved in a hostage situation. Besides, your boyfriend will be fine..."

Sarah rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I keep telling you he's not my boyfriend; he's my co-worker. My writing partner."

"Either way, my _co-workers _are looking after him. He took a nasty blow to the lip, but he'll be fine by tomorrow. There's no trouble with him. However, I need to ensure you're not suffering from any kind of post-traumatic stress due to the incident."

Hearing this, the young woman couldn't help but snicker sarcastically, having a good idea of what the doctor was trying to imply. "'Cause I'm the girl, and I need more looking after? Is that it?"

The doctor immediately tore his blue-eyed gaze from the clipboard in his grasp, catching the questioning stare of his dark haired patient. The look in his eyes was almost sympathetic as he edged closer to her. "That's not the reason!" Sarah held his near honest gaze, waiting for a more reasonable explanation. Gulping loudly, the doctor continued. "My colleagues and I had a talk with the police who brought you in. They gave us the report you provided them, it's standard procedure. I'm curious about what you told them...about a man in shadows saving you. This..._Dark Angel _person?"

Sarah's eyebrows arched, curious as to where the doctor was going with this, until it hit home. "You think I imagined it!?" Sarah hissed, frowning. "Haven't you been reading the papers? Or watching the news? The Dark Angel is real! He's out there...and he _saved_ me, and he saved Marc! I have not, and did not, imagine him!"

The doctor raised his hands in defense and shook his head with a gentle smile playing across his lips. "I'm not implying you imagined it at all, Miss Connelly. But from what I've heard, no bodies have been found. Scarface and your _'apparent' _saviour seemed to have disappeared without a trace. We just want to make sure no stone was left unturned and you really did see what you say you saw."

Not wanting to hear anymore doubt, Sarah turned away from the doctor. "I'd like to go to the waiting room while I wait for Marc."

The doctor sighed softly. "Very well. It may still take a few more hours for him. We still need to see if he'll require stitches."

"Just look after him okay." Sarah muttered. The tone of her voice sounded broken, as the guilt rushed over her. It was her fault that Marc was hurt like that, she pushed him into helping her to get this story, and he nearly died because of it.

Her gaze lowered to the floor as she slowly made her way to the waiting room. Her mind would occasionally dwell over what had happened a few hours previously...being saved by the Dark Angel himself.

As she settled herself down into the oddly comfortable chair, Sarah hadn't realized just how tired she was, and before long her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment.

Then the dreams began...

... ... ... ...

Nightmares often came easily to Sarah. As often as most. She would almost always dream the same dream, night after night. Dazed from painkillers only aided in forcing the dreams into becoming more fraught in sheer weirdness, and much more vivid, yet some aspects still remained a mystery to her, as with most dreams. Glistening trails of sweat slid serpentine paths across her skin as she descended deeper into sleep...into her dream. And oh was it a dream...

It would always begin in the same way. Faces loomed at her from the night, a parade of images that were once unclear forcing their way into her consciousness. A cacophony of chains, sighs of anguish and flesh being ripped filled her unwilling ears. The scene before her was clear yet still hazy. A man, an aged man, dressed in attire dating back to the eighteenth century, stood before her very eyes, chanting and extended his arms over his head like a demented preacher, his clear white shirt smeared in blood. Sarah understood not one word of his chant, but judging by the result it was yielding - the very room they stood shook from the very depths of the foundations - it was something evil. She couldn't see very well, but she could see endless red, hear the rhythmic jingling of chains...the tinkling of a haunting melody, and an audible click and shift of a mechanical device which sat unattended in the corner. During all this madness, she could hear the focused and clear as glass whisper constantly sigh; _"del L'Isle..."_ echo through her mind. She chose to ignore that as her dream grew more vivid.

The very room she stood, despite her hazy vision, was like that of an slaughter house, and Sarah fought with Herculean task to stop herself from vomiting. She focused her hazy attentions to the sound of the melancholic tune, her eyes finally settled on a cube-like object, and for some reason she could see it well. It was well focused on, whilst all else surrounding it was still hazy and blurry. The details of this piece of work was exact and perfect; it was a puzzle box of some sort, Chinese-looking, gold with six lacquered faces adorned in mysterious and complicated grooves and patterns.

_Familiar _patterns...patterns she'd been seeing repeatedly for the past month or so. Patterns and symbols which were the object of her recent obsession...

It was all very precise, the work of an obvious genius, Sarah decided. Such patterns and designs made her want to explore it, to solve it with her fingers...it was tempting. Along with the continuing chants of _"del L'Isle..."_enticing whispers melded into that tempo, echoing in her ears. She understood not one word but she knew they were goading her on, forcing her to pick up the box. She could not help it. With one trembling hand, she reached over to claim it, like it rightfully belonged to her. Like this box was apart of her. She could not explain it, she did not understand what all this was. But she didn't care. All she wanted was to possess the box for her own...

Just as her finger tips were inches away from the multi-faceted box, to touch and to examine, the grotesque scenery faded before her eyes. It was her own bedroom she now stood, but it was pitch black...and she was not alone.

A gentle breeze blew her hair, caressing her skin and causing goose-pimples to rise under the slight chill. This was when she became aware of her indecent status - she wore only but a thin night negligee, and was being touched by a pair of cool hands, which traveled the lengths of her arms and chilled lips kissed at her neck. They then drew her petite frame into what felt like a muscular body, much more than any man she had been with in the past. Despite the situation, Sarah was clearly enjoying the sensations. The gentle breeze swirled her dark hair as her hands found his. Their hands melded with ease, as if they'd always been a part of one another.

_"Sarah..."_

The man who stood right behind her breathed her name with divine hunger and desire. She didn't recognize the voice anywhere. But she could not help it; it was so monotonously deep and dark, inhuman almost, yet laced with seduction and a hidden power.

Leaning her head back, she found his lips and kissed him. During the heat of a hidden passionate kiss, she was twirled round so she was face on with him as they embraced one another. She could not see him once their kiss ended, he was shrouded in darkness. But once more, she cared very little, and despite how she was becoming intimate with a complete stranger in her dreams, she had no qualms in lowering herself down across her bed, the cool sheets welcoming under her heated flesh. Her unseen lover swept himself across her, and claimed her lips again. Their bodies soon joined as one. She wildly bucked against him, during a haze of screams and gasps of pleasures as they began to make love.

Yet as he buried his face deep into her neck, a slight tickling and scratching of metal cruelly ripped her from her passions and she wrenched herself away at once...staring into the deep coal eyes of the mysterious shadowy figure, yet for some reason, and something she hadn't noticed before now, he had a collection of piercings littered the length and breadth of his entire face which was still shrouded in blackness...

_"del L'Isle...del L'Isle...del L'Isle...del L'Isle"_

... ... ... ...

Sarah woke with a start, jolting upwards from her seat in the waiting room, her eyes wide with terror, and obviously no longer making passionate love to the mystery man of her dreams...the man who now was not much of a mystery at all.

Surely she was not...she hadn't been...with…

Sarah soon realized she had crashed into someone who stood before her not long after she had woken up with a frightening start. The force of the impact almost sent the person crashing to the ground. Thankfully, however, it didn't, but it had somehow mangled and destroyed the small bunch of flowers that the man held in his grasp.

"Marc?" she gasped.

"Hey..." was all he could say for the moment, as he tried to spit out some of the petals that had somehow found their way into his mouth. "I know you must be happy to see me but-"

Before he could say anymore, Sarah jumped at him, her arms engulfing him as she held him tightly. "Geez girl, you act like I've been gone for years."

Taken aback by what had just happened in the last few seconds, with her weird...and decidedly passionate...dream, and then seeing how Marc was alright, Sarah relinquished her tight hold on her friend. Her cheeks were bright red, and her breath shallow through heavy exhalations. Her forehead was glistening with sweat.

"Sorry Marc...I just-"

"Are you okay?" Marc interrupted as he placed a hand on her forehead. "You're burning up. Should I call the doctor?"

"No, no, I'm fine...just..." She took a moment trying to absorb what had happened, and to think of a way to explain what she had just seen. It was...just a weird dream."

Wanting to cheer her up, a slight smirk crept across Marc's face. "Can't be any weirder than the dreams I used to have as a kid. I joined the circus and my stage partner was a three legged bear in a tutu...although the image of you in a tutu is even weirder." He gave a quick wink at her.

Despite what had just happened, and the fear that has transpired to the both of them in the past day, the two couldn't help but share a laugh as Sarah lightly nudged Marc. He looked to be in good shape, except for the swollen lip that was stitched with small strips of band aid, and he was in high spirits to boot.

However, she couldn't just forget the nightmare...or, could she even describe it as a nightmare? She didn't know what to make of it. It felt so vivid and real she could still almost feel the tingling sensation around the back of her neck where his lips had kissed her, his hands stroking her slick flesh...the pleasurable throbbing between her legs. She could still feel the bitter cold strike against her skin. And that dark figure...the man in her dream, the man she was...making _love_ to? Why did she feel so drawn to him? She didn't know who he was...or _did _she? It almost made her head spin just thinking about this.

"Anyway," Marc continued, bringing Sarah out of her thoughts, as he held onto what was left of the flowers in his grasp. "I got out early and saw you were asleep, so I thought I'd go pick these up for you. Don't say I don't ever get you anything, dear!''

Sarah smiled lightly. "I won't. You help more than I could ever ask for. Thanks Marc."

The reporting duo made a start for the hospital exit, hoping to put all the traumatic business behind them, but it was easier said than done for Sarah, whose mind dwelled on not only the events concerning Scarface...but of that vivid dream which had just plagued her mind.

She vowed to put it behind her for now, but somehow Sarah Connelly felt that this was all far from over...

**To Be Continued...**


End file.
